


The Lion by Torchlight

by kaoruyogi



Series: Songs of the Elvhen Torch [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Withdrawal, nursing back to health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 156,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7539643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaoruyogi/pseuds/kaoruyogi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cullen first saw her in that little room, all that was left of the shining temple that once stood there, he never could have known that she would come to mean the world to him. And she never could have known, in the midst of the world crumbling around them, that her captor would become the love of her life. </p><p>A re-telling of Halise Lavellan and Cullen Rutherford's love story. Both canon and divergent. </p><p>(Halise's name is pronounced "Hah-Lee-Say")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So, this is my first fanfic, and I'm really excited for you to read it. Thank you for taking the time. Comments are welcome and thoroughly appreciated, as is con-crit. There will be some hyper-cannon, straight from the game stuff here, as well as some very canon-divergent plot. I hope you enjoy!

"No," he whispered. The world was collapsing around him. Screaming, tearing, bleeding, burning—and all he could do was crumble. He fell to his knees, staring mouth agape at the swirling green vortex in the sky. A ringing had settled firmly in his ears in the wake of the explosion. Thousands of people now dead, the hopes of Thedas burning up into the air.

Next to him he could hear the muffled sound of a woman shrieking and sobbing. He looked to his left to see Leliana on her knees clawing at her face and then at the dirt, pounding her fist into the ground as she wailed. He turned to his right to see the Seeker, Cassandra, on her feet, tears streaming down her silent face.

He cast his eyes downward at the settlement just below the Chantry and watched as hundreds of people ran frantically, dropped to the ground, screamed, wept, and fainted. His eyes stung and he felt a warm tear fall, streaking down his cheek. He brought a leather-gloved hand to his face, absently wiping away the tear. Just then he knew he had to stand. The real horror had just begun.

Cullen Rutherford had been in Haven for little more than a week when the devastation tore through the Conclave being held at the Temple of Sacred Ashes just outside of town. Cassandra had sought him out in Kirkwall and asked him to command the forces of the Inquisition being formed at the behest of Divine Justinia. The same Divine who, it appeared, had been obliterated in the temple along with the multitude of mages, Templars, and so many others attending the peace talks intended to lay the mage rebellion to rest and bring the Templars back into the fold of the Chantry.

All that was lost in a second. Cullen did not know what caused the explosion, but he needed to find out. He stood, moving to pull the broken spymaster from the ground alongside him. Leliana wiped her face, smearing dirt on her angular cheekbone. "Let's go," she seethed, a hardness overtaking her face that Cullen had never seen.

"Someone may have survived the blast," Cassandra shouted. She seemed to shake herself free of her anguish, clenching her jaw and her fists in equal measure. "We must help them!"

The burgeoning, yet unofficial, Inquisition's forces were miniscule in number, but that meant most of them were either close enough to the temple to already be rendering aid, or in the settlement near enough to gather at least a handful of them to move out. Cullen realized then that he had been tightly gripping the pommel of his sword, and released his grasp with a rush of blood back into his fingertips, a dull ache playing at his palm. As if spurred by a swift kick in the ass he lunged forward, running through the yard gathering soldiers for the rush to the temple.

As they made their way toward the temple through the snow-sodden, rocky path, the ex-Templar could smell the magic in the air. He grimaced as the acrid ozone scent slid into his nostrils and down his throat. He had not taken lyrium for a month now, but his sense for magic was still very much intact. He coughed loudly to conceal the gag reflex that rose in him as they neared the temple, the scent doubling in strength.

When the group rounded the next bend they saw it. Or what was left of it. The once sprawling, glittering temple was virtually gone, eviscerated by whatever magic had caused the conflagration. Several Inquisition soldiers stood outside what used to be the front entrance. Cullen noticed a young soldier, a boy no older than 18, vomiting around the side of the building, clutching the stones on the corner as he heaved into the snow.

Another young man stepped toward them. "Commander, it's—it's horrible. Everyone in there—" he gestured with shaking hands toward the interior, now the exterior. "Everyone is dead! Some of them are still—Maker—some of them are still standing, burning where they were when the explosion happened." The soldier's eyes began to water, and Cullen could only stand and wait for him to continue, frozen in place by dread. This could be so much worse than the Circle tower in Ferelden.

"But just as we arrived some great green light opened up in the area of the main hall, and a woman fell out! An elf. There was another woman behind her and, Maker save me, she looked like the figures of Andraste I’ve seen in every Chantry I’ve been in since I was a boy!" His eyes were wide and his hands flailed about as he spoke. Cullen could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Someone survived this? These soldiers saw Andraste? He glanced at Cassandra. Her jaw was still clenched tight, the scar on her cheek pulsing as she put more pressure on her teeth.

"The woman passed out," the soldier continued. "We put her in one of the side rooms that was left standing. I heard movement in there only a moment ago." He gestured for them to follow him.

Leliana was first to the door, slamming it open with her teeth bared. Cullen entered next. He quickly scanned the old stone room at eye level, and when he saw no one, glanced down. There she was. The woman who survived the explosion that had killed thousands. 

As the soldier had said, she was an elf. Dalish, if Cullen recognized her facial tattoos correctly. She had long, thick red hair that hung in loose spirals and waves. She was kneeling on the dark wooden floor of the small room, shaking. When she looked up at him, he was struck by her large eyes. They were almost glowing green, with bright yellow rings around the pupils. It was then he noticed how red and swollen her eyes and nose were. He saw the large tears pouring forth and heard her heave several quiet sobs. She was terrified.

She looked pleadingly at him, searching his face, her full lips quivering. He couldn't fathom what she thought she would find there, but he could feel that his appearance was stoic and firm. The elf then slowly lowered her head, and Cullen inhaled sharply when he saw what she was looking at. 

"Maker's breath," he murmured. Her left hand was glowing. A bright green glow exuded from what appeared to be a crack in her hand. A scar? He couldn't place the look of the mark, but with the woman's next loud sob it crackled and popped, sending light and sound clamoring through the little room. Cassandra began to withdraw her sword in response, but thought better, shaking her head slightly while sheathing it back to the hilt.

Before Cullen could turn back to the elf, Leliana growled and lunged at her. She grasped the collar of the woman's loose gray tunic and hoisted her up off the floor. The woman's large eyes grew even wider and her lips parted before she cringed, letting out a cry of pain as the mark burst to life again. Leliana was unflinching as she glowered, eye-level with the elf.

"How did you manage to kill everyone and live?" Leliana hissed. "How is it that the Divine died and you survived?"

Now it was Cullen’s turn to begin unsheathing his sword, not at the mark, but for fear the spymaster would kill the only witness to the explosion. The elf clutched at her left wrist, eyes wide with tears continuing to spill forth. 

“I-I don’t—I didn’t—Please tell me what’s going on!” She sounded somewhat like a Free Marcher with a few subtle differences in her vowels, voice fractured from crying. Her head began to dart about to everyone in the room, long hair swaying wildly, brows furrowed with what he could only assume was the realization that she was the only suspect in a mass murder. An act of terror. Her eyes slammed shut, lids creased with agony, and her mouth seemed to rive itself open as a blood-curdling scream came like a deluge from deep within her chest. The mark crackled to life again, this time filling the entire room with light and that awful magic smell.

Leliana loosened her grip on the woman’s collar as the light faded. Those large eyes remained closed, lids relaxing. The elf’s mouth seemed to languish open as the spymaster released her, her head falling slack. Her once firmly planted feet and lithe, long legs could not hold her upright as she fell to the floor with a thud, unconscious in a heap. Her thin fingers still laced around her wrist. 

“The mark is killing her,” a calm voice said from behind them in the open doorway. Cullen rapidly finished unsheathing his sword as he spun to face the source of the words, prepared for a fight with someone who might want to kill the unconscious elf. To his surprise, Solas, the unknown elven apostate who happened to show up several days before the conclave stood in the doorway, a look of deep, calm concern over his face. Cullen sheathed his sword, eyeing the mage suspiciously. Leliana had only slightly turned her head to glance sideways at the events behind her. 

“If you want to know what happened—to save her—you must let me examine the mark.” Solas held out his hands in a calming gesture as he slowly moved between the Commander and the Seeker to approach the woman. He knelt at her side and touched the mark on her left hand, his other hand working to loosen her fingers from her wrist. Once free, he held her hand closer to his face, tilting his head as he analyzed the glowing green fracture in her pale skin.

“This may be what you need to seal the Breach in the sky,” he said firmly. Cullen felt himself tense and relax all at once, a strange mixture of fear and relief flooding him simultaneously. This was the best kind of bad news. Something could be done to save them, but it would have to be done by the unknown, unconscious woman that may have killed so many and doomed the rest to die. He slowly turned and exited the room, not wanting to hear anything more and desperately needing the cold, fresh air that awaited him just outside. 

As he breathed deeply outside the door, he noticed his hands were shaking. He walked around the side of the small room so as not to be seen or heard, and promptly pushed his back against the wall. He slid down slowly into the snow, tears now flowing freely. “Maker save us,” he breathed as he watched his tears turn to ice in the snow. “Maker save us.”  
*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was the first chapter. Hardest one to put out there! I know this one is kind of short, but there are some reeeaally long ones in the future, so bear with me.
> 
> There will also be music in coming chapters, so stay tuned!
> 
> I wanted to thank you again for reading, and I hope you have a great day/night/sol/circadian cycle/etc.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	2. Chapter 2

“NO!” she screamed as she shot up. Her eyes were open and flashed around the room, searching for some familiarity. But all she saw was stone, fire, bars, wood and…another elf? Mythal’enaste! As she reached up to call him to her, she felt the weight and tug of chains around her wrists and ankles. Vague sparks of memory began to return to her as she regarded the shackles. She was a suspect. People thought she was a terrorist. A murderer. 

The lanky, bald elf sat asleep in a chair outside of her cage. He stirred when her chains clinked, prompting her to call to him. “Lethal’lin,” she rasped loudly. She wanted to get his attention but no one else’s. He didn’t move, so she got up onto her knees and shuffled closer to the barred door, chains jingling and scraping along the stone floor. “Lethal’lin!”

The man grimaced as he sat up straighter, his back apparently aching from the slouch he had adopted in that uncomfortable looking chair. His eyes opened and he turned to her. She looked wide-eyed at him, but decided that the best approach was probably to smile. Mythal only knew how long it had been since she had seen a friendly face, or how long it would be until she saw one again. She wasn’t even sure if this was going to be a friendly encounter. But Mamae and the Keeper had always taught her to try and make a good first impression, though she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she and her clan met so many new people. That thought made her sad. Sadder even, for a moment, than sitting in a dark cell in shackles. She didn’t know anyone.

The elf with the egg-shaped head and severe chin looked down at her with no expression on his face. The smile she had plastered on her face slowly melted, and she turned her head a bit embarrassed by her instincts. She felt the tips of her ears warm and her eyes start to burn at her humiliation coupled with the situation she had begun to realize she was in. 

“Andaran atish’an, lethal’lan,” he said quietly. He spoke very evenly, and didn’t seem to feel one way or another about her newfound consciousness. Even so, the smile returned to her face with a wash of relief. He was not her captor. As she looked up at him, she noticed that he had no vallaslin. So, a city elf? He didn’t carry himself like a city elf. He didn’t smell like a city elf either. No soapy, perfumed odor. Where was this man from?

“I must go and tell the others that you have awakened,” he said, looking away from her towards what she could only assume was the door to the outside.

“Wait! Can you please tell me where I am first?” The smile was off her face as quickly as it had come back. She was scared. Who could blame her? This was fucking scary! She didn’t kill anyone in that temple. But she didn’t remember what happened either. 

“You are at Haven, under the Chantry, in a jail cell. I will presume you already knew the last part of that statement.” His lips moved into a gentle smile, putting her a little more at ease. “If you would prefer not to be in a jail cell, however, you must let me tell them you are awake,” he chided. 

She sighed and waved her chained wrist to signal that he could go. He headed out of the dimly lit jail and up some stairs. Just like that, she was alone again. She stared down at her left hand. She remembered that much. The crack in her hand glowed at her as if to intentionally provoke her disdain, so she followed its direction and scowled at it. At least it didn’t hurt quite as badly as it had last time she was conscious. How long had she been unconscious? She bent her neck to put her face near her underarm. Ech…at least two days. She pretended to gag at her unpleasant scent and let out a breathy snicker.

Just then, the door above opened again she heard three distinct sets of footsteps coming down the stairs. One of them was stomping. As they came into view, she first saw the serious elf. Next appeared the woman with the dark, short hair and armor that had been scowling at her in that little room at the temple. Finally, the woman with the shoulder length red hair and purple hood who had grabbed her up in the tiny room and accused her of being a murderer. 

She felt the fear rise in her throat and turn her stomach to ice again as she backed away from the cell door, the two women entering the cell. She kneeled in the middle of the floor while the dark-haired woman circled her and asked her questions about what happened at the temple, telling her that everyone died except for her, grabbing at her marked hand and demanding to know what it was and what she remembered. “I only remember running and then…a woman? I really have no idea what happened. If I knew anything that could help, I swear I would tell you. Creators…all those people…” The elf hung her head, the weight of thousands of dead on her back. And her memory had simply failed her.

The hooded woman stood silently in the shadows, watching everything. The scowling one said, “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.” She nodded and left them alone. 

“What did happen?” the elven woman asked, looking down and feeling the crush of every life that had been lost.

“It would be easier to show you,” said the dark-haired woman as she helped her prisoner stand and removed her chains. They walked up the stairs into the main hall of the Chantry, where more than a dozen people glared at the elf and muttered insults like “knife ear” under their breaths. She felt pangs of shame, anger, and guilt as she made her way through the throng. 

“They have decided your guilt,” the armor-clad woman said. “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our most holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers.”

Once they passed the angry crowd threatening to frenzy itself into a mob, the door opened. The elf shielded her eyes from the light, having been in the dark for several days made the brightness of the outside world nearly unbearable. Once her eyes had adjusted, she looked up and saw a massive swirling green hole in the sky, trailing a long green sparking line to the ground. 

“We call it ‘the Breach.’ It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

As if on cue, the vortex shuddered, sending a massive bolt down the trail to the ground and expanding. Immediately, the elf’s left hand crackled to life. It popped and shot an agonizing, debilitating pain up her arm, causing her to cry out and topple to her knees. Tears welled in her eyes from the pain. This day was not going very well. 

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads…And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.” The woman crouched in front of the elf to look her in the eyes as she spoke.

“Well that is just the worst news,” the elf squeezed out through gritted teeth, easing out what she hoped sounded like a chuckle. “But I need to stop whatever this is.”

“I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of Truth and the Right Hand of Divine Justinia,” the dark-haired woman said as she stood to offer a hand up.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” the serious elf said with a slight smile on his face. She had almost forgotten he was there, narrow eyes drilling into the back of her head as they walked. Like a kind of judgmental shadow.

“I’m Halise, and I will do everything in my power to help you.”  
*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting the first few chapters rapid-fire here. But the schedule will normalize to once a day or once every few days, I haven't fully decided which. As I post this, I'm days away from the Bar Exam, so things may get more or less hectic after that. 
> 
> Thank you for chugging along with me! 
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Canon-typical violence

“Ugh!” he shouted in disgust. “Don’t let them flank us! Move to my right and stay behind me!” Cullen was forced to constantly bark orders at these untrained children playing at being soldiers. He shouldn’t be so agitated with them; after all they were risking their lives for a cause that may not even exist in a few hours. 

Demons in strange shapes and sizes had been pouring through the Breach, attacking anything that moved. A gaping green rift had opened in the middle of what used to be the vestibule of the temple, and demons spewed from that as well. Cullen and his “soldiers” were doing everything they could to stop the destruction, but more kept coming. He had already lost several men, and with their dwindling numbers he only hoped to stay alive long enough to see the next hour. The young man he had seen throwing up outside of the chantry, Aldridge, stood on a slight hill just above Cullen slowly sending down arrows, and had almost hit Cullen and the others several times. The soldier who had briefed them outside of the temple, Dolan, was severely wounded by a shade that had clawed a gash into his chest, and was sitting directly under Aldridge. Cullen had two stout men and a woman with a greatsword guarding his sides and his back and slashing exhaustedly at the onslaught of demons in the wrecked remains of the temple.

Cullen pushed away another demon with his shield and cut into it with his sword. The horrible glowing creature let out a heinous shriek before dissolving into the air and floating back up to the Maker-damned hole in the sky. He was tired and parched, and he knew his soldiers were in no better shape. It appeared they were losing, and he felt the twinge of guilt at the thought of these people dying by his side. At least they had fought bravely.

All at once a loud war cry came from the other end of the gutted temple. Cullen peered over his shield and saw Cassandra hacking through demons. The elven apostate and that never-serious dwarf, Varric, followed behind her shooting magic and crossbow bolts into the unholy beasts. 

Then he made out a fourth figure, willowy and buxom all at once, nocking and loosing arrow after arrow. That red hair. The prisoner. They had armed her?! He bristled at the thought of the harm she could do them. But she wasn’t. A wraith moved dangerously close to Cassandra’s back and the elf shot it down faster than he had ever seen anyone do before. 

The four eventually made their way over to him, and the two groups melded together, fighting the horde invigorated anew. As Cullen surged forward to beat back a rage demon, he felt the heat of another demon at his side. Why had he exposed his side? Foolish! He pivoted to block with his shield but was knocked to the ground in the process. As the creature loomed over him, he heard a boisterous shout nearby. He turned toward the sound for a split second and saw the elf nock six arrows onto her bowstring. She flipped backward, allowing her momentum to add force to all of the arrows as she let them fly. Her slim but apparently powerful legs stretched out over the top of her as she rotated, her body making a slim, graceful line like a razor blade cutting through the air. 

Each of the six arrows plunged into the demon looking down on him. It screeched and vanished. With the threat gone, Cullen turned up in the direction of the elf again. As she loosed another arrow she glanced back at him and shot him a wide grin. She may have winked at him too, but he couldn’t be sure from that distance. Then she was off again like a ball of fire, the same loose gray tunic he had seen her wearing in that little stone room fluttering around her as she darted up to another vantage point on a broken wall and continued riddling the field with arrows. Her red hair tangled around her arms from her constant shifting motions. He was impressed. 

As the final demon was slain, the elven fireball made her way down to the rift in the vestibule and held out her left hand. Her marked hand. Cullen curled into himself slightly as he waited for what came next. With a flash, a bright green filament shot out of the rift and connected with her mark. Her face contorted as she seemed to struggle with the cord of light, her hand shaking against the sheer power of it. Then suddenly she clenched her fist and wrenched it back. With that swift motion the rift disintegrated into a black ooze on the ground. 

Cullen stood dumbfounded by what he had just seen. It took everything in him not to go completely slack jawed. The last thing he needed was this tiny band of soldiers losing respect for him and his command because he looked like an idiot in the presence of such a beautiful, powerful woman. Wait…beautiful? 

Cassandra ran up to him, allowing him to shake himself out of whatever that unnerving thought process was. “Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift. Well done,” he said.

“Do not congratulate me, Commander. This is the prisoner’s doing,” she sighed.

“Hi, yeah, right here.” The elf leaned into his field of vision and waived, grinning again. “And my name’s Halise, not ‘the prisoner.’”

“Is it? I hope they’re right about you, we’ve lost a lot of people getting you here,” he said, a little more harshly than he may have intended. The grin fell from her face and she looked down at the ground, suddenly avoiding his gaze. He could see her chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, tugging part of it into her mouth.

“Well I can’t promise anything, Commander, but I’ll try my best.” She glanced back up at him, face sterner than before. Her lips were slightly parted as she seemed to regain her composure, and her shoulders and breasts rose and fell heavily as she tried to slow her breathing after such prolonged exertion in battle.

He felt a small spasm of discomfort at her gaze, and replied, “That’s all we can ask.” Redirecting his attention to Cassandra, he told her that the way to the center of the temple should be clear for them. As her group turned to leave, he hoped that this disastrous and half-baked plan would work.

He watched them walk toward the base of the Breach, and took Dolan by the arm to lead him to the healers. He turned back once more and whispered, “Maker watch over you…For all our sakes,” and headed back toward Haven with the wounded soldier limping alongside him. Cassandra’s group disappeared over the hill, and it would be what felt like days until he would see them again.  
*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, THANK YOU! I promise, the chapters will get longer soon, but there are still a few short ones left before that. When I started, I wasn't sure how long was too long, or how short was too short, but we'll find our rhythm together. ^_^
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	4. Chapter 4

“Ugh…” Halise groaned as she rolled over, eyes still closed, and wrapped herself up in the blanket resting on top of her. Wait…blanket? Her eyes shot open and she tried to jerk herself up, but she had tangled herself in the blanket and went careening off the side of the bed with a crash. “Owww…”

How had she ended up in a bed? How had she ended up in a bed in a house? How had she ended up on the floor next to a bed in a house? Okay, she knew the answer to that last question but it amused her just to think it, and her mouth quirked up on the left side. It was time to unravel herself and figure out where she was, again. This passing-out-and-waking-up-Mythal-knows-where thing was becoming a nasty little habit.

As she loosened her leg from the dastardly quilt trap someone had laid for her, she heard the door to the little wooden house open. A little elf girl walked in carrying a crate. She looked up when she heard Halise shuffling about in the blanket and immediately dropped the crate to the floor, surprised blue eyes widening as big as coins. She dropped onto her knee and it slammed into the floorboards so hard it made Halise cringe.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you!” she cried, clearly overwhelmed by something.

“You didn’t. I—” Halise moved her arms toward the brown-haired girl to try and get her off the floor.

“I’m to inform Seeker Cassandra that you are awake at once!” The girl nodded hard toward the floor, pushing down on her palms.

“How long have I been here?”

“Three days. At once!” The little elf jumped up and ran out of the room. Halise was left staring at the door flabbergasted, mouth open barbarically, arms and legs still wrapped in the blanket on the floor. Well _that_ was strange.

Once she managed to untangle herself from the demonically possessed blanket, Halise made her way out the same way the little girl had. Outside, a massive crowd had formed, lining the walkway she assumed she was supposed to take to wherever it was she was meant to go now. A wave of fear overtook her as she stood in front of the doorway to the little house. _Fenedhis!_ She was certain these were the same people cursing her in the Chantry. They had obviously gathered more elf-hating guilt mongers to attack her like they wanted to before.

Halise stood stark still until a soldier walked up to her, a human woman wearing a silver helmet with an eerie looking eye on the front. Halise slowly drew her hands up to her chest moving her fingers slowly so her palms would face outward, her eyes wide and frightened. Maybe they wouldn’t hurt her if she just gave up. She could see the soldier make a fist at her side, and prepared to be struck. The woman brought her fist up rapidly and Halise flinched, moving her open hands in front of her face and turning away. When she didn’t feel anything, she slowly dropped her hands and turned to the soldier. The woman’s fist was braced firmly across her chest. A salute?

“Herald of Andraste,” said the soldier, “Seeker Cassandra wishes to see you in the Chantry.” She moved back to the side of the path, fist still pressed to her heart.

Harold of what? Wait…Harold or Herald? Of _what_? Andraste? That was the shem prophet all over the inside of that temple, right? The one they worship? Too many questions ran through her mind, not enough answers. She made up her mind to head to the Chantry like the soldier said. Maybe Cassandra could explain what was going on.

As Halise walked along the path, people she passed stared at her in awe. She looked right back at them in her own awe, mouth perpetually on the verge of mouthing the word “what.” Her eyebrows furrowed when some ubiquitous man said, “It’s her! The Herald of Andraste!”

There it was again! This was too strange, too surreal. The same people who wanted to beat her to death three days ago now looked to her with some misplaced reverence. She started to walk a little faster, swinging her arms stiffly at her sides as she rushed toward the Chantry. She could see it. It was close. She wanted to run but she didn’t know what would happen if she did that. The pace of her walk combined with the din of her heartbeat made her acutely aware of her body. She could feel her hair swinging back and forth across the small of her back, the cold air blowing up one side of her loose tunic, then the other as her arms swayed.

Finally, she was in front of the Chantry. She pushed open the massive wooden doors and moved toward the back room. She could hear a muffled argument on the other side of the small door, and opened it to see Cassandra standing inside with the purple-hooded woman. Was her name Leliana? Yes, Leliana. The two of them were arguing with some loud old man in white robes about duty. As soon as he saw her he shouted to the nearby soldiers, “I want her in chains, prepared for trial!”

“Disregard that and leave us,” Cassandra said before the soldiers even had a chance to move.

“I did everything I could to try and close the Breach and you still think I’m guilty?” Halise asked, pointing her palms upward to reinforce her indignation.

“You absolutely are,” the obnoxious man spat.

“No, she is not,” Cassandra said in a tone very similar to a growl.

Halise heard the door to the room creak open and turned to see who else she was going to have to defend herself to. The golden blonde Commander stepped through the door, and Halise felt…something. She didn’t know what she felt. Conflicted? He hurt her feelings at the temple, but she supposed she understood why he was so agitated with her. He had been conscious and fighting while she slept in a jail cell. To be fair to her, though, she was also sort of dying at the time.

He was very handsome for a shemlen. Handsome for anyone, actually. Quite tall and well-muscled. Warrior muscles. His eyes were an interesting color. A sort of dark yellow-orange, like leaves when the seasons changed. A slim scar climbed from his upper lip to the bottom of his cheekbone. His jaw was layered with short, dark stubble, and it brushed against his furry coat. The coat had thick red and black fur sprouting from the collar, and he wore it over shining silver armor. But he wore regular black leather pants. She glanced back up at his furry collar. She wanted to grab it and squeeze, and run her hands through the fur. It took everything in her to stop her hands from lurching forward.

He stared at her for a moment and she just stood there, looking into those fall-colored eyes. _Good impressions_ , she remembered, and let a smile slide back up her lips. He didn’t move. She kept smiling, raised her eyebrows and tilted her head a little towards his. The corner of his mouth twitched a bit, then lifted, curving his scar. Halise felt her smile growing wider and more genuine in response.

“This is not for you to decide!” She had forgotten people were arguing around her until she heard the old man shouting. She turned back to look at Cassandra just as she slammed a massive book on the table in front of them. The thud made Halise jump.

“You know what this is, Chancellor Roderick,” the Seeker asserted. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.” She marched towards the Chancellor, chasing him backwards out of the room and poked him in the chest. Hard. He looked to the Seeker, then to Halise, then back to the Seeker before throwing his hands in the air and stomping petulantly out of the room. The Commander moved to the side, stretched out his arm and bowed slightly. He turned his head slightly back toward Halise, letting her see the smirk still present on his face.

Ha.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	5. Chapter 5

“Well then,” Cullen said as he stood from his bow. He was still looking at Halise as he turned back around. She had a laughing smile on her face. That was the only way he could think to describe it. She hadn’t actually laughed, but it looked like she had. This close he could see that she had a very light smattering of freckles on her cheeks, almost invisible against her porcelain skin. The sight of her beaming at him coupled with her striking eyes made him feel a bit warmer, as though he had done something special and praiseworthy to deserve such genuine attention.

He turned from her to move to his position on the other side of the war table, a massive piece of smooth, dark wood in the center of this somewhat small room. Once he had taken his place, he saw Josephine Montilyet, the Inquisition’s Antivan ambassador enter the room. She smiled politely at everyone and took her place to his left, her puffed golden sleeves catching the firelight. Only when everyone was settled did Cassandra begin the formal introductions.

“You’ve met Commander Cullen, leader of the inquisition’s forces,” she said.

“It was only for a moment on the field. I’m pleased you survived,” he replied. _I’m pleased you survived? I’m pleased you survived._ Maker’s breath, she had saved his life at least twice and that was the best he could come up with? He felt heat crawl up his face and all he could hear was the loud thump of his pulse while Cassandra introduced Leliana and Josephine.

“And I present to all of you, the Herald of Andraste, Halise Lavellan,” Cassandra continued.

“Hold on a moment,” Halise said. Her voice much different than he had heard in the small room or on the battlefield. Smoother, lighter. “Why does everyone keep calling me that? I almost ran up here because the people outside were all staring at me like undead at a people-eating contest! I thought they were going to grab me and roast me for dinner! So what is all of this ‘Herald of Andraste’ business?”

Cullen suppressed a laugh, hurting his ribcage and throat.

“You mentioned you remembered a woman at the temple,” Cassandra explained, appearing a bit frustrated. “The people who saw you fall out of the rift believe that woman was Andraste, the bride of the Maker. They believe she sent you to us to save Thedas.”

Halise’s eyes enlarged until it looked like they were going to burst from her face. She scanned everyone’s face in the room, perhaps looking for a sign that this was all a joke. Then she turned back to Cassandra, whose serious expression spoke volumes.

“Pfft! Alright then! Herald of Andraste it is! I’ve been called stranger things,” Halise said loudly as she shook her head and threw her arms into the air. Then she pointed at the Seeker. “But for the record, I disagree. Respectfully.” She rubbed along the length of her right eyebrow with two fingers and crossed her arms under her breasts as she looked at everyone again. “Okay, so let’s get down to business. What do we do now?”

Cullen was immediately distracted. Halise wore such a loose shirt that he had not been truly able to make out her figure until just now. She was tall for an elf, standing about the same height as Cassandra. Her legs and arms were thin, but when she crossed her arms the motion pulled at her tunic just so. She wore tight tan nugskin pants, and her ass was suddenly visible. And it was perfect. It was round and full, and tapered into a thin waist. As he drew his eyes back up, he noticed her breasts sitting voluminously over her crossed arms. They stretched the fabric of the shirt that she had pulled tight with one deft movement. Just then he realized that he was staring and cleared his throat just as Halise looked back up at him, a small smile gracing her lips.

“…must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana finished. He turned to her with chagrin written all over his face. Approach the rebel mages for help? Not a chance.

“And I still disagree,” he said fervently. “The Templars could serve just as well.”

Cassandra started, “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark—”

He felt compelled to interrupt the Seeker there. “Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so—”

“Pure speculation,” Leliana stopped him cold.

“I was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of,” he replied, somewhat offended by her comment.

Josephine interjected, “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition—and you, specifically.” She pointed at Halise across the table.

“Not really surprising,” Halise shrugged. “I’m a Dalish elf and people are saying that Andraste sent me to save the world. It’s all a little weird.”

“People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.” Leliana was very matter-of-fact with all of this.

“And to others, a symbol of everything that has gone wrong,” Josephine added.

Halise dropped her hands to her sides, releasing her baggy shirt to its original form. “And suddenly I’m everything to everyone. This just gets better and better. Fenedhis!” Cullen could only guess that was a curse. She ran her fingers over her eyebrow again, chewing on the inside of her lip. Her fingernails brushed the delicate dark green swirling tattoo on her forehead, and the smaller matching mark on her chin stretched as the corner of her lip disappeared into her mouth.

Leliana, a bit more encouraging, then said, “There is something you can do. A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved in the Chantry’s act of denouncing you far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

“I’m not sure why she would help me, but okay. I’ll go speak to her and see what she has to say.” Halise looked a bit downtrodden.

Leliana smiled a bit and replied, “You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.”

Cullen thought now was as good a time as any to remind Halise and Cassandra to recruit. “Look for other ways to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you are there,” he said.

Josephine tactfully added, “We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.”

“I’m starting to feel like a lot is in my hands…or hand,” Halise said. She held up her marked left hand and glared at it.

“We won’t force you to shoulder these burdens alone,” Cullen countered quickly, feeling as though she needed reassurance. “We will be working from here to support you in every way we can, from spies to forces to diplomacy.” He gestured at each of the advisors as he explained.

A sad smile stretched Halise’s lips. “Thank you,” she answered. “I’m glad to know someone is watching my back. From the way you’ve all be talking it doesn’t sound like anyone would be too hesitant to stick a knife in it.”

The thought of that instantly made Cullen very sad.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, five chapters is all you guys get for the first day, to make up for them being so short. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome. 
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	6. Chapter 6

“Well then,” Halise said as she bounded cheerfully away from a ram corpse she had just butchered and skinned, “time to go find those blankets for Whittle and his refugee-sicles.” She giggled. In her humble opinion, that was a good one.

Varric chuckled along with her. “Go easy on us, Torch. We’ve only been here a week and we’ve already run the entire span of the Hinterlands at least twice.” The dwarf shook his head and smiled at her, prompting her to shake her head and smile back at him.

Cassandra sighed and said, “Yes, Herald, we have spent entirely too much time here since contacting Mother Giselle. We should begin our journey to Val Royeaux at once.”

Halise winced at Cassandra’s use of her strange title. “Would you please just call me Halise?” she asked plaintively. “You can even shorten it to Hali if you want. You know, like the plant that everyone likes to deck the halls with during that holiday in Umbralis…Satinalia? Is that what it’s called?”

Varric laughed again, a little louder this time. Cassandra rolled her eyes and huffed. “Herald, you have a title and out of respect for you and your position I will continue to call you by that title. We need to get to Val Royeaux and deal with the Chantry’s denunciation of you and the Inquisition!”

Halise felt this was the appropriate moment to get a bit more serious. “People need help here,” she explained, “and I’m supposed to be helping Thedas, right? I refuse to let these people starve and freeze to death or allow friends and families to be split apart by this ridiculous war. Plus, Cullen and Josephine wanted us to recruit agents while we are out here. We’ve already recruited Ritts, Speaker Anais, Lord Berand, and Master Dennet, who also gave us his horses!” She was counting off the new agents by tapping the fingers on her right hand against her marked left palm. “We have closed over a dozen rifts. We’re doing alright here for now. And don’t worry, Cassandra, we’ll leave for Val Royeaux soon.” With that she reached out and put her hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.

Cassandra squinted at Halise, shook her head and scoffed before stepping away. Halise pursed her lips and squeezed them to the left side of her face. Oh well. She moved to secure the meat and hide from the ram in her satchel.

“Listen, Torch,” Varric said, “it’s getting dark outside and we need to set up camp soon.” It was his turn to put a hand on Halise’s shoulder.

“I’m inclined to agree with the dwarf,” Solas smoothly remarked. Halise jolted a bit, whirling around to face him. She forgot he was there…again! He walked toward her and added, “We will also need food for tonight and the morning as our supplies seem to have run low.” Halise eyed him as he passed her.

Varric’s voice shook her out of her hyper-focused gaze. “Feel like brutalizing one more ram, Torch?”

She let a smirk ease its way up her mouth. “Absolutely.”

 *****

Halise had volunteered to take the midnight watch. She loved looking up at the stars while everyone was asleep, but it made her a bit homesick. She missed her clan a little when she was alone. The wind shifted the trees and ruffled the grass around her. She rubbed her index and middle finger against her thumb in small circles and watched as teeny lightning sparks flashed there, making quiet snapping sounds. No one needed to know. She wasn’t all mage.

Her clan’s Keeper told her when she was very young that she had a strong connection to the Fade, but that it wasn’t strong enough to give her any real magic. The connection would simply allow her a better sense of the world around her. Although, Keeper had mentioned that she might see the occasional physical manifestation of her abilities. They had never amounted to much, usually little things like the sparks between her fingertips or an electrical shock when she got too close to someone, maybe when she was angry.

But no one needed to know about it. She couldn’t use magic to hurt anyone, or to help anyone for that matter. It just made her see and feel things a little differently, and gave her a slight boost when she was using her bow and arrows. The minute amount of magic in her was almost completely un-useful any other way. It wasn’t like it was for Eirlan. Halise’s chest began to hurt with that thought.

She heard rustling coming from behind her and stopped rubbing her fingers together. She stood slowly, trying to remain stealthy so she could attack their ambusher first. Her body relaxed as she saw Varric crawling out of his tent. He smiled at her as he sidled up alongside where she had been sitting. She smiled back, and sat down on the somewhat uncomfortable rock she had picked for her watch.

"Having trouble sleeping?” she asked, turning her head toward him and tilting it away from her body. Her hair fell loosely onto her arms and thighs.

“A little,” he replied. “But I heard a crackling noise and wanted to check on you, make sure your mark wasn’t acting up again.”

Shit, he heard that. “Nope, it’s fine. See?” She held out her hand for him to examine. It glowed its normal faint glow, nothing springing or shooting from it.

“Huh. I guess so,” he said as he sat down next to her, the silence settling between them for a moment. “Are you doing okay with all this, Torch? It’s not that I’m not all for you throwing yourself headlong into this Inquisition thing, but I’m worried you may be pushing yourself too hard. The people love you, and it looks like you love them right back, but there’s no need to do so much so quickly.”

“I’m alright,” Halise replied, smiling softly. “There wasn’t much left for me at home with my clan, and my Keeper sent me to the Conclave because this mage-Templar thing has gotten so out of hand it started spilling over to the Dalish country. It was hurting us, so we wanted to find out what it was.

“Then everything exploded,” she continued. “My hand’s all marked up and glowy and I’m the Herald of Andraste or something now. There’s no point fighting it. I just want to make the best of things while I’m still alive.” Sadness touched her voice in the last sentence, and she cleared her throat to try and sweep it away.

“Well as long as you’re making your own way through all this, I suppose you’ll be alright, Torch.” The dwarf put his hand on her shoulder again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Varric,” she began.

“Anything for you, Herald” he replied, looking impishly at her. She crinkled her nose and made a face like she just smelled something bad.

“Why ‘Torch?’” she asked. “I mean, I get why you call Solas ‘Chuckles,’ ‘cause, you know, irony. And Cassandra is a Seeker so that’s easy. But why ‘Torch’ for me? Is it because of my hair? Because I think that would be decidedly uncreative of you, being a world famous writer and all.”

He laughed quietly. “No, it’s not your hair.”

She interrupted, “Is it because of my glowy mark then?” She shoved her hand a little too close to his face, and backed off when he leaned back. She shrugged a little in apology.

“It’s not your mark either. It’s your eyes.”

“My eyes?!” she exclaimed just a bit too loudly, then spun her head back towards the tents to make sure she hadn’t woken anyone.

Varric laughed again. “Yeah, your eyes. You see, _I_ have the eyes of a storyteller. It’s a gift, really. It lets me see into the nature of people. But they say, ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul.’ I see something in your big, green, elf eyes that says you’re a leader. Someone who stands up for others, like a torch in the dark, showing everybody the way.” He looked more pensive now.

Halise felt tears pushing at the corners of her eyes and gave a loud sniff to try and push them back. “Thanks, Varric. That’s a shitload to live up to, but I’m grateful you see something so strong in me. I’ll try and remember that next time a despair demon is hovering over me, blasting me with ice because I just had to go and close that one last rift.” They shared a chuckle.

“You should try and get some sleep,” she told him. “I have a few hours left on my watch and a lot planned for tomorrow.” She spread her arms out wide, punctuating the volume of work and travel she anticipated for the next day.

“Alright then,” he sighed as he moved back toward his tent. “See you in the morning, Torch.”

She smiled and gave him a small wave as he turned from her and entered his tent. As the flap closed, she started to sing. A soft cooing, just the tune of a song Mamae used to sing to her before bed. She hadn’t thought of it in a long time. Halise used to sing all the time, but stopped about a year ago. _It’s time to start singing again_ , she thought. It was time to be strong again.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know the idea that someone can be part mage is a little...odd, but I've always wondered why people, especially elves, wouldn't have varied levels of connection to the Fade. They all dream in the Fade (mostly, sorry Dwarves), so why couldn't it manifest in bits and pieces in different ways for different people? Either way, I hope you're still along for the ride! ^_^
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	7. Chapter 7

“You! There’s a shield in your hand, block with it! If this man were your enemy you’d be dead!” Cullen stood outside the gates of Haven on the training grounds with some of the new recruits. They were learning to swordfight, and it was painful for him to watch as they battered each other, their inexperience marking their skin in big dark bruises. He had forgotten what not knowing how to fight looked like. He had been doing it for 17 years, after all.

The woman and the four men that had fought alongside him at the temple were among those drilling before him. Dolan had healed from his shade slash, and now he fought shirtless during training. Apparently he had noticed that women seem to admire a scar or two on a man, though Cullen had little such experience.

He heard Aldridge howl as he was struck by a wooden greatsword wielded by the woman from the temple, Keir. He had fallen to the ground and she was pointing the sword at his throat, smirking over him. “Do you yield?”

“Fine, yes!” the young man shouted, gripping his arm. “Why in Maker’s name do you have to hit me so hard, Keir? What did I do to you?” This was getting pitiful. Aldridge was still lying in the dirt whining up at his sparring partner.

Cullen stomped over and grabbed Aldridge by the arm, hauling him up off the ground with a huff. “She should be hitting you harder,” Cullen rumbled. “If you’re going to refuse to use your shield against an opponent that doesn’t have one, you will get hit. And it will hurt. More so if it’s a real blade.”

“Yes, ser,” Aldridge said, clearly afraid to look Cullen in the eye.

“When fighting someone with a greatsword, the key is to remember that they are slower than you are. Their sword is too heavy to move quickly, so you have to be faster than they are.” Cullen picked up a shield. “Keir, try to hit me.”

The blonde-haired, blue-eyed soldier nodded and immediately started swinging. Cullen could see her move to swing down on him, so he side-stepped the blow and rushed at Keir with the shield in front of him. She moved to swing into his side as he ran toward her. He swung the shield down to his side and the sword glanced off of it into the ground. He spun around, deftly passing the woman, and slammed her in the back with the wooden shield. This knocked her off balance and she fell to the dirt with a shout.

“You see?” Cullen motioned to Aldridge to come get his shield. “You must pay attention to your opponent. Watch their movements. Stay a step ahead.” Aldridge nodded at him.

Cullen stretched his hand down to help Keir off the ground. As he hoisted her up, he said, “And you have to learn not to show your hand so early. You’re telegraphing your moves, and I could see everything you were about to do before you even knew you were doing it.” Her cheeks flushed, and she nodded at him, refusing to look at his face.

“You’re a hell of a fighter, Commander,” boomed a large voice behind him. “It’s a shame you’re stuck here doing the hard stuff instead of the good old fashioned grunt work on the battlefield.” The huge Qunari Halise had brought back with her stood before him, arms folded across his massive chest.

“Iron Bull, right?” Cullen asked.

“ _The_ Iron Bull, boss,” he replied, a sly grin on his face. His one eye looked out over the recruits. “If you ever need help training the two-handers like Blondie over here, I’d be happy to help.” He chuckled deeply. “It is my specialty after all.”

Cullen felt a smirk curling his lips. “I might just take you up on that.”

“Anytime, boss.”

The two of them turned when they heard a rowdy shout coming from the gates. Halise came flying out, laughing hysterically. Her red hair swirled around her face as she approached the edge of the stairs, looking behind her. Several blunt sticks came shooting past her, and Cullen could hear a raucous giggle coming from the blonde elf Halise had picked up, Sera.

Halise turned forward just in time to notice she was about to run off the top step and leapt into the air. Unfortunately, she had already caught the edge of the step and lost her balance before she jumped. Her feet hit the uneven gravel walkway on a slant and slid out from under her. She hit the ground with a squeak and a puff of dirt. 

Cullen immediately started running toward her, just as she moved her head with a quiet groan, fear gripping his chest. But before he had even taken a step, she rotated and propped herself up on her elbows, face toward the sky, and arched her body as she threw her head back with a cacophonous torrent of laughter. He stopped in his tracks, feeling a relieved chuckle rise in his throat. She heard the laugh and turned her body toward him, propping her head up on her right hand and putting her left hand on her hip as her elbow stuck up into the air. She crossed her ankles together as she gave a sly smile and said, “Hello, Cullen.” She wore a loose blue tunic now, and part of it had slid up when she skidded across the ground, exposing a small part of her waist and stomach. He felt a childish grin spread across his face, along with a flush of heat.

“Oh no you don’t!” Sera shouted down at Halise. “You ain’t gettin’ off that easy!” Sera jumped off the top stair with her bow in hand and a quiver full of sticks and twigs. She nocked a stick and took aim at Halise.

“Wah!” Halise shouted, more giggling spilling out of her as she jumped out of the dirt and ran toward the frozen lake just past the training grounds. Sera chased her, chortling as she fired stick after stick at her. Halise ran into a snow bank, slipping and falling again in the snow. She crafted a haphazard snowball, which she promptly chucked at Sera, hitting the blonde elf squarely in the face.

“Pfft!” Sera shook her head to get the snow off her face. “Now that’s it!” she hollered, nocking another twig as she ran toward Halise. Halise squealed and ran off. Both of them disappeared over the ridge as quickly as they had appeared, the sound of cackling laughter cresting the small hill.

This time, Cullen’s mouth did fall open. An incredulous smile had planted itself firmly on his face. He shook his head and closed his mouth as he turned to resume training. He jumped back a little when he almost hit Iron Bull in the shoulder with his face. He had been standing there the whole time. Cullen felt blood rise in his ears again, embarrassed by his part in whatever just happened.

“Those two sure are getting along,” Bull said with a smile. “You sure you don’t want me to take over here so you can go play too?” he asked Cullen, looking down at him with a knowing stare from his one eye.

Cullen shifted, uncomfortable under Bull’s gaze. “That’s quite alright, thank you.” He walked back to his position looking out over the recruits as the Qunari began to walk away.

A smile crept back over his face as he heard the echoes of laughter bouncing off the lake and mountains back to his ears.

*****

It had been a few days since Halise came back, several newcomers in tow. She had not only sent nearly a dozen agents back, but had recruited more skilled fighters to join her in her travels. She picked up The Iron Bull on the Storm Coast, and he brought his mercenary band, Bull’s Chargers, with him. She met Sera and First Enchanter Vivienne outside of Val Royeaux when she had gone to address the Chantry. She had returned to the Hinterlands once more when she heard that a Grey Warden named Blackwall was there. They had all hoped he would be able to tell them where all of the other Wardens had vanished to, but he was just as unaware as they were. He did, however choose to come and fight with the Inquisition, which pleased Cullen a great deal.

Halise had been spending a great deal of time among the people of Haven and the soldiers of the Inquisition since she returned. Cullen had recently learned that she was a very skilled singer, as she had started singing along with the bard in the tavern in the evenings. Her voice was beautiful, both powerful and lilting all at once. It seemed to cheer up the soldiers, as well. Some of them would join her in tunes, but inevitably that ended in drunken, dissonant sing-shouting as everyone got involved. When that happened, she would move over to the corner with Sera, the two of them whispering and giggling to each other.

Halise’s influence had also helped ease the tension between the mages and ex-Templars who had already joined the Inquisition. She was calm and patient with them, and listened to their concerns with full focus. It started after she watched Cullen break up a fight between the groups. She seemed surprised at the open animosity and thoroughly questioned him about the war. He answered the best he could, but Chancellor Roderick was there for the whole conversation, pecking at them and their cause.

Cullen had appreciated the time he spent getting to know Halise. They had spoken more recently, and Cullen was relishing the opportunity to learn more about the vivacious woman who was helping shape Thedas with her kind actions and warm smile. She also thought he was funny, which was new for him. He had never been funny, just spent too much time with a serious expression on his face, as Varric could never tell him enough.

Cullen stood in the war room in the Chantry with Josephine and Leliana as they waited for Halise to join them. They had to discuss whether they would pursue aid from the Templars or the mages. He hoped Halise would see reason and meet with the Templars, despite Lord Seeker Lucius’s strange behavior in Val Royeaux. Leliana’s agents had been reporting on how unusual and off-putting he had been. Not at all the man anyone once knew.

The door opened, and Halise and Cassandra walked in. Halise smiled at everyone as she took her place in the center of the war table. Cullen started, “It’s a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital.”

“It was good we went there though,” Halise replied. “We got the chance to speak with leaders from both factions, and now we’re free to approach anyone we want.”

“But Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember,” Cassandra said, concern tinging her voice.

“True. He has taken the order somewhere, but to do what?” Leliana asked. “My reports have been…very odd.”

Cullen needed to curtail this now if he had any hope they would meet with the Templars. “We must look into it. I’m certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker.”

“Or the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead,” Josephine said tentatively.

Cullen could feel his anger rising as he turned to Josephine. “You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse!” His voice was getting louder than he wanted.

“Okay everyone, calm down please,” Halise said as she held her hands out in front of her. “We don’t need to start a miniature war in here. That’s not why it’s called the war room.” She paused, ran her fingers over her eyebrow, and took a deep breath before speaking again, a serious look on her face. She swept her gaze across all of them as she said, “I’m still not sure why we can’t approach the outliers of both factions, but as it stands I think we need to approach the mages. Their magic could power the mark enough to help close the Breach. Also, their leader, Fiona seemed a lot more…in her right mind than Lord Seeker Lucius.”

Cullen tried not to lose his temper. She was only being pragmatic, right? “If that is what you wish, we will follow your orders.”

Halise looked stunned at the curtness of his response. Her brow furrowed as she regarded him critically. She continued to watch him as she turned her head from him to speak to Cassandra. “I’ll be taking Sera, Blackwall, and Solas with me to Redcliffe. Can you please let them know to get ready? We’ll leave tomorrow morning. Thank you everyone.” She glanced at him once more before she turned to leave the room, the same serious look on her face.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as she left the war room. That look she gave him… _Maker’s breath_ , he thought. His stomach turned and he could only imagine how much his attitude had disappointed her. He had tried not to let his history cloud his judgment, and genuinely thought the Templars would be better suited to the task of helping to seal the Breach. He told himself that his opinion was not born out of distrust for the mages, but real consideration. He wasn’t sure how true that really was.

_Maker keep you safe_ , he thought as he watched her walk away through the open door. _Please_.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for clutzy shenanigans!
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	8. Chapter 8

“You! I recognize you!” Halise smiled as she walked up to the elf at the gate for Redcliffe Village. She had seen him with Fiona in Val Royeaux.

“Yes, Herald. I am Lysas. We met before, very briefly,” he said. “Magister Alexius is unavailable, but you may speak with Fiona in the meantime.”

“Wait…Fiona isn’t in charge here? And no one was expecting us?” Halise started to get confused. Fiona was the one who told them to come when they had met in Val Royeaux. Maybe she wasn’t so in her right mind. “Does this strike anyone else as weird?” she asked her group quietly as they walked toward the tavern where they were to meet Fiona.

“Very weird,” said Sera, fidgeting. “Wasn’t she the one who wanted you to come out here?”

“She was,” Solas responded. “She was quite gracious, though insistent.”

Blackwall chimed in, “I do not like the sound of all this.”

“Me neither.” Halise was growing increasingly unsettled by the step. There was something strange going on here. Not just with the whole Fiona thing, but something was weird with the Fade and the veil here. Her fingers got twitchy, and she could feel little jolts of electricity running through her. Now was not a good time for this.

As they entered the Gull and Lantern tavern, Fiona approached them. When Halise mentioned that the reception was a little strange despite Fiona’s invitation in Val Royeaux, Fiona looked puzzled. “I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave,” she said.

“Then who were we talking to?” Halise asked. Dread crept up her spine. This was not how she hoped this conversation was going to go.

“I’m not sure,” Fiona replied. “But I must inform you that situation has changed. The free mages have already pledged our service to Magister Alexius of the Tevinter Imperium. And as one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.”

That wasn’t good. So not good. Halise had heard stories of what they did to elves like her and Fiona in the Imperium. They were horrible. “I’m afraid you’ve made a huge mistake, Fiona.” Halise looked around as she spoke, suddenly very aware of her surroundings.

At that moment, a man walked into the tavern. He was wearing a strange robe with spiky adornments on the hood. Another, younger man followed him. The older man started, “Welcome, my friends! I apologize for not greeting you earlier.”

“Agents of the Inquisition,” said Fiona, “Allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius.”

“The southern mages are under my command,” Alexius said. “And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting.” He gestured at Halise, making her stomach go cold.

“Look,” she said, “I’m not thrilled with whatever is going on here, but I need help from the mages to close the Breach.”

“Right to business! I understand, of course.” Alexius gestured for her to follow him. She glanced back at her friends, making sure they were still there with her. This was bad. She saw Fiona glaring at the back of Alexius’s head as they walked to a table in the corner. _Great, everyone’s pissed off_.

“Felix, would you send for a scribe please?” Alexius said to the younger man who had been following him. Now that Halise got a close look at his face, she could tell he was unwell. His cheeks were flushed and he had dark circles under his eyes. “Pardon my manners,” Alexius continued, “My son, Felix, friends.” Felix bowed to them before stepping away. It irked Halise that Alexius kept saying “friends.”

“I’m not surprised you’re here. Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed,” Alexius preened.

“Well we can hardly think small with a massive swirling hole in the sky right?” Halise tried to ease herself by making it seem like she was comfortable with this conversation.

Alexius started, “There will have to be—” Just then Felix shambled up. He looked dazed. Halise stood as he wandered toward her. He held out his hand a little and then fainted into her arms. She almost collapsed under the weight of him as he struck her somewhat small frame. “Felix!” Alexius shouted.

“My apologies, my lady. I was feeling so faint,” Felix gently excused his brief period of semi consciousness.

Alexius rushed to Felix’s side and started talking into his ear. Then he looked up at Halise before turning to leave, “Please excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this at a later date. I will send word soon.” With that he and Felix left the tavern, Felix’s arm draped over Alexius’s neck.

Now that they were gone, Halise could look at the note Felix had pressed into her palm when he “fainted” on her. “Come to the chantry,” it read, “You are in danger.”

“Fenedhis!” she hissed. “This is such bullshit! Why can nothing just be easy?!” She held out the note for the others to read.

“Do you think this is a trap?” Blackwall asked.

“Aww!” she groaned, “I have no earthly idea, but I hope not.” Halise was almost whining. She didn’t like her tone, but she liked the situation even less. “Let’s go.” She let her head sag forward to demonstrate how begrudgingly she moved. This was so Creators damned stupid.

*****

As the four of them made their way up to the Redcliffe Chantry doors, Halise could hear banging and grunting coming from inside. She turned her head so her pointed ear was facing the sounds, her eyes darting around absently as she strained to hear what was going on. A second later she heard the shriek of a terror attacking. With that she shot her eyes back toward the front door. “There’s an open rift in there!”

Blackwall moved ahead of her, his shield already in front of him. They all walked toward the doors, and Blackwall turned to ensure that everyone was safely behind him. With a grunt he booted the heavy wooden doors open, with Halise, Sera, and Solas all prepared to take on the demons that were certainly on the other side.

Instead what they found was an olive-skinned, mustachioed mage with perfectly coiffed hair battering down a wraith, apparently the last demon in that particular wave. He looked up at them and smiled. “Ah, there you are!” he crowed. “Do me a favor and help me close this, would you?” He pointed to the rift with his staff. Halise noticed that there was a fresh coat of demon goo on the bottom blade.

The rift sprung back to life, hurling out five more demons. Halise immediately started attacking the lanky terror first, knowing that it could rip into the ground and fly up under her. She could not afford to be knocked down with the terror and four other demons attacking. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blackwall attacking a shade, Sera loosing arrows into one wraith, and Solas freezing another.

The handsome mage ran up alongside Halise, and their eyes met briefly. He winked at her before running to get in range of the final demon. A slow smirk curled her lips as she crouched to hold a long pull. She knew she could finish off the terror with a little extra stretch of her bowstring, and slowly took careful aim. As she loosed the arrow, one of the shades backhanded her, knocking her to the ground. She pushed herself off the floor just enough to see that her arrow had flown true, killing the terror, before she somersaulted backwards away from the shade.

Just as she nocked another arrow to fire at the shade, it shrieked and disintegrated before her. Looking past where it had been, she saw the mage smiling at her again. She nodded to him before standing to close the rift. She braced her palm toward the glowing green mass, feeling it connect with her mark. Grappling with the magic, she was finally able to slam the rift closed with the clench and pull of her fist.

The handsome mage ran toward her, still grinning, and asked, “Fascinating! How does that work, exactly?”

Halise sheepishly looked off to the side, looked back to the man, pressed her lips together and shrugged.

“Haha! You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes.”

Halise could feel her teeth peeking through her growing smile. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Ah! Getting ahead of myself again. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?” He bowed slightly.

“Oh,” Halise said, her smile slowly dropping. “You’re from Tevinter too…”

“Well don’t look so downtrodden!” the man exclaimed, resting his hand on her shoulder with perhaps too much familiarity. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable—as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“So wait,” Halise said as she put her hand up in a stopping motion, “the bad guy used to teach you how to do things? How, precisely, does that equal me trusting you? Also, where is Felix? I was supposed to meet him here.”

“I’m from the Magisterium, but I am not a Magister. So, not the junior bad guy.” Dorian smirked again. “Felix is undoubtedly stuck with his father fawning over him because of his illness. Look, you must have noticed something untoward going on around here. Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebellion out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before you, Alexius distorted time itself,” he explained.

“That is fascinating, if true,” Solas said. “And almost certainly dangerous.”

“What?” Halise squinted and shook her head. “Distorted time? I’ve been hearing a lot of weird shit lately but that is something wholly different. Exactly how did he do that and how do _you_ know he did that, hmm?” She was starting to lose patience with the unbelievable volume of crap she was expected to wade through to do some good.

“As I said, Alexius was my mentor. I worked with him on the theory behind this magic before we…had a falling out. I helped him develop it. The magic he is using is wildly unstable, and threatens to unravel the world. What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

“He didn’t do it for them,” a voice said from behind them. “He did it to get to you.” Felix walked out of the shadows.

“Ah, there you are,” Dorian said. “Is he getting suspicious?”

“No. But I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I was afraid he’d be fussing over me all day,” Felix replied. “My father’s joined a cult. A group of Tevinter supremacists calling themselves the Venatori. They’re obsessed with you.” He pointed at Halise.

She put her hand on her chest and raised her eyebrows at Felix. “Me? Well I suppose I should be flattered by the lengths they’re willing to go to.” An incredulous look overtook her face. “Do either of you have any suggestions on how I should proceed, given your inside information?” She wagged her lanky pointed finger back and forth between them.

Dorian said, “You know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. I can’t stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here. I’ll meet you back at your camp in Haven. Perhaps there we can work out a plan to foil this fiendish plot.” He began to walk out the back door of the Chantry. “Oh, and Felix? Try not to get yourself killed,” he added as he exited.

Halise sighed through her nose and threw her head back, eyes closed. “Why?” she groaned. “Whyyy?!” She whimpered pitifully toward the ceiling before righting herself and making for the front door.

This was going to be so, so stupid.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	9. Chapter 9

“Damn!” Cullen pounded his fist into the makeshift desk in his tent near the training grounds. Halise wanted to walk herself into a trap so she could gain the assistance of the mages. This was utter nonsense! It would be safer to try and recruit the Templars. He still believed it.

He turned to walk to the Chantry. Halise had called a meeting in the war room to strategize. When he looked up, he was startled by Halise standing less than a foot from him near the opening of his tent. Her head was cocked to the side as she looked at him. She seemed to be examining his face. It wouldn’t be too difficult for her either, they were so close. Too close. He could smell her skin and hair—Cullen detected hints of grass, elfroot, and blueberries, the last scent surprised him. She smelled like sweets at a picnic. It was tantalizing.

Cullen took a step back, rubbing the back of his neck, and noticed that Halise was wringing her fingers nervously. “I need to know that you trust me,” she said softly, looking him in the eyes.

“What?” The question threw him off guard. “That I trust you?”

“Yes,” she responded, her expression and gaze unchanging. “I need to know that you trust me to make the right choices. You have—you, Leliana, Cassandra, and Josephine have put a lot into the Inquisition, and you’ve lain much of the decision-making at my feet. I’m fine with that, but I need to know that you trust my judgment. Not just that you’ll follow me or do as I command or whatever other nonsense. I’m not leading this Inquisition, and I just—I need to know.”

Ah. She was upset with his remark in the war room last week. “I do trust your judgment, Herald. I—”

“Could you maybe stop calling me that, please?” she interrupted, her voice tinged with sadness. “My name is Halise. You’re welcome to call me that or Hali, but this Herald of Andraste stuff is too much. Everybody’s calling me the harbinger of some prophet on behalf of a god I don’t really know or believe in.” Her brows creased as she looked off to the side of him. “Also, I keep thinking everyone is calling me Harold, like the man’s name. H-A-R-O-L-D,” she spelled, directing her eyes back to his.

“I—um—alright,” Cullen stammered, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Halise.” He tasted her name on his tongue for the first time. He liked it. “I do trust your judgment. I apologize if I made you doubt that with my comment last week. I have my opinions about how matters should be handled, but they are just that. Opinions. I am here to lead and train the Inquisition’s forces and advise the Inquisition as best I can. We may disagree at times but I trust that you will make the choice that is best for the cause and the people in the end.”

The ghost of a smile passed across her face before she sighed. “Good. Would you care to accompany me to the war room?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied a bit too quickly. He stepped toward her and they began the walk up to the Chantry, their arms hanging so close to each other he could touch her with a small lift of his finger.

“So, Cullen,” she started, “what is your _opinion_ of the Inquisition so far? I know it’s only been a bit more than a month, but a lot has happened.”

“Well, we haven’t closed the Breach yet, but I feel we may be making great strides in dealing with the war between the mages and the Templars. The Inquisition is able to act where no one else can. Our followers can be a part of that. There is so much we can accomplish with this—”

He could see her entertained smirk at his overzealous answer. “Forgive me,” he said bashfully. “I doubt you asked me so you could hear a lecture.”

Halise’s smile widened. “No, but if you have one prepared I’d love to hear it.” They both chuckled. Cullen looked away as he felt heat suffuse over his face.

She continued, “I’m glad you’re enthusiastic about this, though. The leadership of this organization ought to _want_ to do all of this. So much of it is too ridiculous to even fathom doing otherwise! Like what I might be about to go do. I’m going to hurl myself into a trap in an unfamiliar place with a crazy mage who wants to kill me and has a creepy time travel device! All in the hopes that I can get some random people to go with me to try and fix a big ass hole in the sky!” Her face echoed the sentiment that the plan was, indeed, ridiculous.

Cullen laughed. “Well when you put it that way, it does sound pretty bad.”

“I know, right?!” she squeaked, turning her head to him. “What’s more, I have no idea if this will even work. Mages, Templars, everyone could completely fail to help me close the Breach. This stupid mark on my hand might not even be able to do that. And then where are we? Sitting around with our thumbs in our asses waiting to die. Creators, the more I think about it the more outlandish it all sounds.” She shook her head.

“I believe that you can close the Breach,” Cullen replied earnestly. “Either choice you could have made bore risks. Very real ones. But you’ve committed to your decision and I will do everything in my power to support you.” He realized that he actually believed what he was saying. He started to see how Halise had been managing to change the hearts and minds of the people during her journeys. His beliefs were staunch and deeply rooted, and within less than five minutes she was already shifting his perspective. She was just so…raw and honest.

They entered the Chantry and walked back into the war room. Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra were already inside. As Cullen took his place on the other side of the war table, Halise clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “Okay everyone, what’s the plan here?”

“We don’t have the manpower to simply take Redcliffe Castle,” Cullen answered. “It is one of the most defensible fortresses in Fereleden. It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there alone, you’ll die. I won’t allow that to happen.”

“Other than the main gate, there has to be another way to get into the castle,” Halise said, looking around the room. “A sewer? A water course? A creepy underground tunnel? Anything?”

"There’s nothing I know of that would work,” Cullen said, beginning to lose some of the hope he had built up on the walk in.

“Wait,” Leliana said. “There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family. It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

“Too risky,” Cullen retorted. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.”

“That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly,” said the spymaster. She wanted to throw Halise in with this madman. Of course. It was so like Leliana to be so willing to risk the life of the one person with the power to close the rifts, and likely the Breach.

“Focus their attention on Mistress Lavellan while we take out the Tevinters? I’ll repeat myself: it’s too risky.”

The door burst open. “Fortunately, you’ll have help,” said the man who walked in.

“Dorian!” Halise exclaimed, a pleased expression overcoming her seriousness. “I’m glad someone who knows something about whatever is happening here is…here.” Her shoulders shuddered with a silent laugh and she shook her head.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help. So if you’re going to go after him, I’m coming along,” Dorian smirked.

“This plan puts you in the most danger.” Cullen looked at Halise. “We can’t, in good conscience, force you to do this.”

“No one has to force me to do shit,” Halise countered, a defiance filling out her expression. “I’m volunteering to do this because it will, at the very least, help get the mages out from under the hold of this weird cult. Let’s go get ready, Dorian.” They started out the war room door, Halise talking to the man very expressively with her hands.

There she went again, precipitously flinging herself into danger. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. Watching her do this was becoming too much to bear. He hated the idea of losing her. Not the idea of the Inquisition losing her, but the idea of _him_ losing her. Maker’s breath, what had he gotten himself into?

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short, but next chapter is a doozy (and much longer)!
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead...The kind you get a stomach cramp writing.

“Damn,” Halise muttered under her breath as the doors opened into Redcliffe Castle. Sera and Blackwall walked at her side as she entered the great stone foyer. Her stomach was doing gymnastics she couldn’t accomplish externally if she had wings.

Some snide little man stopped them near the front door. “Announce us,” Halise demanded.

“The master’s invitation was for Mistress Lavellan alone. The others must wait here,” the little shit said.

“Then I guess I can just go right on back to Haven,” Halise snarled. “It smells less like assholes there anyway.”

Sera giggled at that.

The man sneered at her and shrugged. He turned to lead them into the throne room where Halise knew Alexius would be sitting, thinking he just outsmarted the Inquisition and won. They walked up a small set of stairs and—yup, there he was. King Magic-Ass sitting on the throne.

“My lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived,” the man from the entrance announced. He shot a hateful glance at Halise as he turned to walk away. She just rolled her eyes.

“My friend! It’s so good to see you again,” said the Magister, standing from the throne. There it was again, “friend.” Halise shuddered with disgust. Yeah, like they could be friends. “I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties,” he continued.

Fiona walked up from the corner, agitation written all over her face. “Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” she asked.

That clearly irritated Alexius. “Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.”

“Really Magister, I see that you simply ooze trust. You just have one of those faces. But as one of the parties to this negotiation, I would prefer the mages to have a say in their fates.” Halise was joining the pissed-off-party, letting her aggravation show openly.

“Thank you.” Fiona gave Halise a slight bow.

“The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?” Alexius sneered.

Halise saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and glanced to the side of the room without moving her head. She watched as one of Leliana’s agents stabbed a Venatori guard in the neck and dragged him backwards. She could play her hand now.

“The Inquisition is offering absolutely nothing. Squat. Shit,” she said firmly.

Alexius was visibly shocked. “What impertinence! What would possibly lead you to believe that I would supply you with the mages you need with that attitude?”

“I did,” Felix chimed in. “I know of your involvement with the Venatori, Father. The thought that you could be involved in something like that sickens and concerns me. I told the Inquisition about your time magic and the Venatori. They’re here to stop you.”

“Inquisition!” Alexius shouted. “You thought you could turn my own son against me?! You walk into _my_ stronghold with your stolen mark—a gift you don’t even understand—and think you’re in control?! You’re nothing but a mistake!”

“A mistake?” Halise scoffed. “If I’m a mistake then what the fuck was the Breach supposed to accomplish?”

“It was to be a triumphant moment for the Elder One, for this world!”

With that, Dorian emerged from the shadows. “Alexius, you sound exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be,” he said.

“Dorian,” Alexius scowled, “I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.”

“You do realize you sound like a complete lunatic, right?” Halise interjected. “I can’t be the only one hearing this, can I?” She looked around at her friends. “And who is this ‘Elder One’ you keep yammering about?”

“Soon he will be a god. He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas!” Alexius sounded bewitched by the prospect.

“You can’t involve my people in this!” Fiona exclaimed.

“Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why would you support this?” Dorian pleaded.

“Stop it, Father,” said Felix. “Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.”

Alexius’s face turned and he looked sorrowful. “No, Felix. This is the only way. He can save you. There is a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the temple.”

“I’m going to die,” Felix reminded him. “You need to accept that.”

Alexius shook his head and growled, turning his head back toward Halise and Dorian. “Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands—” Alexius looked for the men he was trying to command and suddenly realized they were dead, and had been replaced by Inquisition agents. He had been so busy bloviating he hadn’t even noticed.

“Your men are dead, Alexius,” Halise bellowed. “You will be too if you don’t give this up.”

“You are a mistake! You never should have existed!” Alexius raised his hand. Something glowed in his palm. _Fenedhis!_

“No!” Dorian cried. He swung his staff, sending a ball of fire careening into Alexius’s head. This set off whatever magic Alexius had been preparing, and opened a great swirling void in the middle of the room. Halise stared into the spell, grimace stuck firmly to her face.

 _Shit_.

*****

In less time than it took Halise to blink, she was standing knee-deep in filthy water in a small stone room filled with red lyrium. Varric had told her about the stuff. It ate people up from the inside, made them crazy, or killed them. Or all three. It emitted some sick magic, and the volume of it in the small space gave her an instant headache, her stomach beginning to turn.

Dorian stood next to her. She shot him a concerned glance just as two men wearing strange horned metal helmets came in through the barred door in front of them. One of them shouted, “Blood of the Elder One! What are they doing in here?!”

“Kill them!” cried the other.

Halise rolled her eyes as she pulled her bow off her back and nocked an arrow. This was obnoxious. The second man came rushing at her while she deftly sent an arrow through the space between his helmet and his breastplate. He fell with a clatter and a gurgle, and his momentum sent him sliding through the water, creating a tiny tidal wave.

Meanwhile, Dorian had set the first man ablaze. He was running around the little cell screaming. Halise scoffed and casually loosed another arrow into a similar spot as she had on the second man. This one just crumpled. Dorian turned to Halise and raised an eyebrow at her.

He moved to examine the crumpled soldier, all the while muttering about time magic and theories. Halise could feel her stomach churning more with each passing second. She closed her eyes and asked, “Where are we?”

“I think the question is not ‘where?’ my darling, but ‘when?’” Dorian replied.

Halise let out a little moan, her eyes still shut tight. “This is so stupid,” she groaned.

“Tsk tsk! Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to say ‘stupid?’ It’s terribly rude! I think the word you’re looking for is asinine.”

“Heh,” Halise snorted. Her brow creased and she smashed her already closed eyes as tightly as she could. She wasn’t sure if she was just dizzy or if she was actually swaying.

“I think I’m going to be sick. No, wait—” She held her hand up as she inhaled slowly through her nose and blew the air out of her mouth. Repeating the process, she slowly opened her eyes. “Okay…I think I’m okay.”

Her stomach grumbled and cramped. “Nope! Gonna be sick!” She ran onto the little dry raised block of stone opposite the cell door and heaved. She felt her long twisted hair being pulled back from her face and held away.

Halise retched once more before turning her head to see Dorian standing next to her. His face twisted into a smile laced with pity as his hand held up her mass of hair. She spat onto the ground as she stood momentarily, then hunched over to rest her hands on her knees. Her breeches were soft and comfortable on her sweating palms.

“Thank you,” she said after swallowing thickly. “Alright, now what?”

“Well, my little elven geyser, we must first discover how far in time we’ve been sent back or forward, though I suspect it is forward. Then we find Alexius, since it appears we are still in the same castle, just not the same place in it. Once we find him, I’m fairly certain I can reverse the spell.” Dorian held a finger to his lips pensively.

“Oh really,” Halise scoffed. “That easy, huh?” She stood slowly, feeling sturdier in the wake of her purge.

Dorian laughed. “Yes, that easy.”

“Good. Let’s get started then!”

Once they exited the cell, they began sweeping the other parts of the jail for familiar survivors, dispatching several more Venatori soldiers along their way. In the first part of the jail they searched, they discovered Lysas in one cell chanting about Andraste. He had clearly been tainted with red lyrium and it had driven him mad.

In the cell across from him, they found Fiona. In most ways, she was worse off than Lysas. She had massive shards of red lyrium growing through her body into the wall and the floor. It was likely she hadn’t moved in months. She was, however, cognizant enough to tell them that Alexius had sent them forward a year, and that Leliana was also being held somewhere in the castle.

In the second portion of the jail they came to, they found Blackwall and Sera. Both of them had been poisoned with red lyrium, and their voices sounded like they were vibrating when they spoke. Both of them also thought they were having an insane delusion when they saw Halise and Dorian, certain even as she freed them from their cells that she was dead.

She had asked Blackwall if he was alright. He replied, “A dead woman asking a dead man if he is alright?”

When Halise first saw Sera, the blonde elf cursed at her and called her a “frigging demon.” After she calmed down a bit, if what she did could be considered calming down, she said, “Leliana’s here somewhere. They’ve been torturing her for information. I heard Cullen get dragged in here not long after they caught Leliana. I’m not sure where either of them are.”

Halise’s blood went cold in her veins. “We have to move. Now!” She took off running toward the last part of the jail proper, hearing nothing but her blood pounding in her ears. They had Cullen. What happened? Was he still alive?

She opened the door to the small room. Three cells lined the walls next to and opposite the door. Halise had run here, but now she was almost too scared to move. What if he wasn’t in any of the cells? What if they killed him? She had seen him fight before. He would have fought them to the death if they gave him the chance.

She could already see that he wasn’t directly in front of her, so she stepped forward and looked to her left. Nothing. Then to her right. _Mythal’enaste,_ her mind shouted at her. He was alive. She saw Cullen see her and jump to his feet. Tears welled up in her eyes as she ran the two steps to him.

“Maker’s breath,” he said, eyes red and voice vibrating. More red lyrium. He laced his fingers over one of the crossbars of his cell. Halise quickly rested her hand on top of his. He’d been stripped of his armor, left in torn breeches and a filthy tunic. Much of his warrior’s frame had wilted away from him with atrophy and hunger, making him appear almost brittle.

“You’re—You’re alive! Even if this is the work of a demon, to see you again—Halise, it can’t be you, but you’re alive! Thank the Maker.” A large teardrop fell from Cullen’s eye.

“So are you,” she said with a watery smile. She pressed her face to his hand. “I’m going to get you out of here.” She pulled out her lock pick and reached for the spot on the cell door where the lock should be.

Halise gasped, frozen where she stood. Red lyrium had grown through most of the door, jamming it closed and sealing the lock.

“I’m afraid you can’t,” Cullen said quietly.

“No,” Halise whispered. “No! I’m going to get you out of there! I have to get you out of there!” She scrambled around the cell door, pulling on anything she could dig her fingers into. Nothing was working. The cell was a thousand years old and she couldn’t break it. She felt herself boil over with panic and sorrow. Crying and whimpering, she grabbed onto Cullen’s hand again. His sad eyes searched her face, as if he were trying to seal every detail in his mind.

“We have to go,” Dorian said quietly, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

She whipped her head around as she glowered at him. “No! I’m not going anywhere until I get him out!” Her voice began to crack as her sobbing grew louder. “I-I’m getting him out!”

Dorian began to pull on her shoulder. She ripped away, planting both hands firmly over Cullen’s. “I’m not leaving you,” she whimpered.

“You must,” Cullen said. He looked into her eyes, holding up a mirror of the sorrow she felt shredding her heart.

“We have to go!” Dorian was much more insistent this time. He grabbed Halise by the waist and tugged on her.

“No!” she screamed, her legs lifting from the ground. She held on to the bars of Cullen’s cell as tightly as she could.

“Blackwall,” Dorian huffed. Blackwall nodded his head and walked in front of her face. He reached into the cell and pried Halise’s thin fingers from the bars.

“No! What are you doing?!” she screamed as she struggled to maintain her grip. As Blackwall loosened her last finger, she felt herself ripped away from the cell. Dorian began to carry her out of the room. She writhed and kicked to escape, panic gripping her every fiber, but Dorian was strong and kept a firm grasp on her as he led her out.

“No! Let go of me! I have to get him out of there! No! Cullen!!!” Her voice was shrill, breaking as she shrieked. Her hands grasped at air and she wailed loudly as she watched Cullen’s face disappear. A small bolt of lightning cracked in her hand, out of sight of anyone but her.

Once they were out of the room, Blackwall slammed the door behind them. Halise was running back toward it the second Dorian put her down. Dorian wedged himself between her and the wooden door. “We have to go,” he said firmly.

“Get out of my way!” Halise shouted hoarsely at him. When he refused to move, she put her hands on his shoulders and shoved him as hard as she could, knocking him back into the door.

His expression hardened as he grabbed her up again and carried her to the top of the stairs. When he set her down he held onto her shoulders, lowering his head to look into her eyes. “We can stop this from happening, Halise. This never has to happen. But for us to do that, we must leave the Commander. I promise, I will get us back to prevent this.”

Halise stared back at him. Her lower lip was quivering and tears still streamed down her face. She sniffled and brought up her forearm to wipe away the moisture. Then balled up her fists.

“Let’s go then,” she said coldly as she turned to walk away. Dorian motioned with his head for Blackwall and Sera to follow, and they started their search for the spymaster.

After the group had fumbled around the castle and eventually found Leliana, who had indeed been tortured, her face scarred almost beyond recognition, they learned that Alexius was working for the Elder One, who had accomplished all of this destruction beginning with the assassination of Empress Celene, the ruler of Orlais. The event, in addition to the use of a demon army, began a domino effect that toppled all of Thedas.

When they did find Alexius, he was a shadow of his former self. He had managed to keep Felix alive, but the once strapping man had become a husk, hollow and emotionless even as Leliana slit his throat. Her action caused a short fight with Alexius in the throne room, but he was handily defeated in the wake of Leliana and Halise’s joint rage.

Demons continued to attack, however, and Halise and Dorian were forced to shut themselves into a room with Leliana as Blackwall and Sera stood outside, sacrificing themselves fighting the demons to buy more time for Dorian to figure out how to reverse this nightmare. When the demons pushed through the door, Leliana fought off several of them skillfully with her bow. Just as Dorian managed to reopen the portal back to the correct time, Halise turned around once more to see Leliana torn apart by the encroaching horde. Halise let out a small sob as she and Dorian stepped through, back in time.

This had been so, so, so stupid.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ow...I had a love/hate experience writing that. It'll be a little rocky for the next couple of chapters, but things will look up eventually right? Right?
> 
> Also, I hate to leave you on a three-day cliffhanger, but I start the Bar Exam tomorrow, and will be going dark until it's over. But, if you're looking for something good to read, might I suggest [CometEclipse's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CometEclipse/pseuds/CometEclipse), [CES479's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CES479/pseuds/CES479), or [Martini_September's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Martini_September/pseuds/Martini_September) work? Just a few of the awesome Cullenmance writers on here.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	11. Chapter 11

“What?!” Cullen was furious when Leliana briefed him on what had happened at Redcliffe Castle. Halise and Dorian had been pulled out of existence, then back into it only a moment later. Apparently, they had been sent forward in time and saw a horrific future filled with red lyrium and demons.

After they returned, Halise took Alexius prisoner, then King Alistair and Queen Anora exiled the mages from Ferelden. Halise offered them a full alliance with the Inquisition, with no supervision or oversight. How reckless she had been! First with her own life and then by freeing the mages. His anger sat on his bones for hours as he waited for Halise and her party to return to Haven.

Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana were arguing in the main hall of the Chantry when Halise came in. She had come straight from dropping off her horse at the stables. Her hair was windblown, the tips of her ears and tops of her cheeks reddened by the cold.

“If we rescind the offer of an alliance,” Josephine said to Cullen loudly, “it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst!”

Halise walked toward them with her face hard, eyes glazed over. As she moved to stand among them, Cullen let fly his anger.

“What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight?!” he roared. “The veil is torn open!”

With that, Halise’s eyes flashed and she rushed toward him. A deep rage burned in her face, creasing her brow and parting her lips. The tattoo on her forehead shifted with her open wrath. She stood only inches from his face, her unyielding gaze piercing through him with white hot intensity. He heard a popping sound and felt a small sting on his hand. Then he smelled that sickly magic smell. His eyes briefly darted around, but he saw no evidence of magic in use anywhere.

As Halise’s eyes bore into him, she spoke, her voice low and rigid. “What are _you_ thinking, Commander? You throw me to the wolves, then spurn me when I come back alive with teeth and claws of my own?!”

She inched her face even closer, as if she was trying to make him see through her eyes into her mind. “You didn’t see what I saw. You didn’t see any of it. You can’t know. You can’t understand. This was not a choice. I freed the mages because they must be free. Forcing more people into slavery will crush this world. Hear my voice when I tell you: this is done.”

Halise stayed there a moment longer, eyes searching what felt to Cullen like the depths of his soul. Then she sighed through her nose, shook her head, and walked out of the Chantry.

*****

Halise refused to speak to anyone but Sera and Dorian for two days after that. Cullen had knocked on the door to her little wooden house, and when she asked who was there, he told her. She refused to let him in and told him to leave, in no uncertain terms.

He decided that he would write her a letter expressing his apologies and trying to smooth things over with her. He started and crumpled over a dozen before he was even remotely satisfied with what he had written.

Letter in hand, he approached Sera in the tavern to deliver it for him. “Piss off, Commander,” she spat at him. “You shouted at her for doing what she thought was right. She’s stuck with that stupid mark on her hand and the stupid world waiting for her to fix it. And no one can be bothered to think on how she feels about that. She’s stuck making decisions while everyone’s whinging about the world being fucked, stuck up their own arses. So like I said, piss off.”

She was right. Cullen hung his head as he exited the tavern. He was ashamed at his harshness. More, though, he was angry at himself for reneging on what he had said to her that day in his tent. He told her he trusted her to make the right choices, then turned on her with the very next move she made. How ignoble he was, unworthy of the grace and kindness she showed him from the moment they met.

Dorian walked up as Cullen was leaving the tavern. “Well don’t you look sullen, Commander,” he said, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow at Cullen’s uncharacteristic posture. “Sullen Cullen. Commander Sullen.”

“Enough,” Cullen growled. He had his fill of being chastised for one afternoon.

“Now, Commander, you’ve no reason to behave like that,” Dorian admonished him, wagging his finger. “I, as always, am here to help. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation inside with lovely Sera. I would be happy to deliver your letter to Halise for you if you would allow me the pleasure of being part of this…whatever it is between the two of you.”

“And what do you know about it, Tevinter?” Cullen snarled.

“I fear I know a great deal more than you do, Commander. As Halise mentioned in the Chantry after you attempted to reprimand her, you didn’t see what she and I saw. More specifically, you didn’t see what I saw.” Dorian leaned his single bared shoulder on the wall of the tavern, facing Cullen with his arms once more crossed over his chest. The rest of his leather and buckle outfit jingled with the small force of his shifting weight.

“You were there, Commander,” he said. “You were locked in a cell filled with red lyrium—poisoned on the stuff. Our dear Halise tried everything in her power to free you, but your cell door had been permanently sealed by the lyrium. She refused to leave your side. It took two of us to get her out and back to her senses. I carried her _literally_ kicking and screaming out of the room where your cell was. My ears are still ringing from that experience, by the way.”

“What?” Cullen could only stand there, enrapt and confounded.

“Yes, I’m afraid she has grown rather attached to you. So much so that she actually tried to attach herself to you rather than leaving you in order to truly save you. A strange paradox, I realize. Then she was forced to watch three more of her friends die before her eyes. Once we escaped, she couldn’t get back here fast enough.

“Despite her fervor to return, however,” Dorian continued, “she made the decision to free the southern mages very calmly and considerately. She took her time when she wanted to rush. Back to you. Then you scolded her for making such a difficult choice after she had done it so carefully. So you can see, Commander, why she sits reticent in her little house, loathe to speak to anyone, filled with conflict and self-doubt.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen sighed, “I am truly a fool.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Finally something for you and I to agree on!” Dorian said. “Be that as it may, I will gladly deliver your letter to our dear Halise, mostly because I have an idea of what lies within. She needs to know, Commander.” Dorian was more serious now.

“Will you allow me a moment to add something?” Cullen asked.

“Of course.”

The two walked back to Cullen’s tent. He stood over his desk as he dipped his pen and wrote several more lines onto the bottom of the letter. Once the ink had dried, he resealed it and handed it to Dorian, who gave a little salute with the letter and headed toward Halise’s house.

_What a fool I have been_ , Cullen thought to himself. _The biggest idiot in all of Thedas_.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright!!! Much like Halise, I'm back! Also much like Halise, I feel like I just came back from hell. And for those wondering, the California Bar Exam is haaaaarrrrrd! I won't know for 4 months if I passed, but for now I'm just excited it's done. Thanks for sticking with me and my girl (and her Cully-Wully) through this little absence!!!
> 
> I know we're still in Bummertown...But It would be pretty hard not to be pissed at someone for that kind of behavior! 
> 
> I also wanted to give everyone a few chapters' notice: there will be modern musical integration soon. What does that mean? There are lyrics to modern songs that will be used in future chapters (that's right, way more than one), starting in Chapter 14, and I'll be posting a YouTube link to the song in use. So, you're free to listen along and get a better feel for what's going on, or you're welcome to make up your own melodies. Either way, I hope you don't mind.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	12. Chapter 12

“What?” Halise called out to whoever was knocking on the front door of her little house. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Dorian, my darling,” he said smoothly, voice muffled by the wooden door.

She sighed and reluctantly pushed herself off the bed. Dragging her feet, she opened the door. Dorian leaned on the doorframe gallantly.

“You’ve got to stop this brooding, Halise,” he said. He ran his fingers through his hair as he stepped inside. “And the more I keep coming in and out of here people will start to talk.”

“Oh, come on, you’d love nothing more than that!” Halise let out a small laugh. “‘Did you see the Herald of Andraste with that handsome Tevinter man?!’ The ladies would swoon! Incidentally, I’m not sure why you like that so much.”

“Nothing makes someone feel better than to be desired by those who cannot have him, my sweet.”

“Call me those little names in public, then. Perhaps brush my hair behind my ear ever so gently and whisper something to me afterward. That’s sure to get them talking.” Halise mimicked her narrations dramatically.

Dorian chuckled and took a seat in the chair near the fireplace while Halise sat back down on her bed. She started to fidget with her fingers and her hair fell around her shoulders, grazing her lap.

“So what brings such a well-coifed man to my door this evening?” she asked.

“It happens that I come bearing a letter. It’s from our handsome Commander.” He pulled the letter out of one of his many layers of leather and waved it around coquettishly, batting his eyelashes.

“What?” Halise was more than a little taken aback. She hadn’t spoken to Cullen, really spoken to him, since he scolded her in the Chantry two days before. Although she had shouted at him through her door to leave her alone.

“Apparently he’s quite broken up about your little spat.” Dorian stood and set the letter down next to Halise on the bed.

“I don’t want to read it. If he’s not going to give any credence to what I say or do, why should I do it for him?” She slid the letter away from her.

“Now, now,” Dorian scolded, “neither of you were at your best that day. Remember, we had only just returned from the darkest version of the world. You know, the one we’re trying to prevent?”

He sighed when she refused to look at him or the letter. “Listen, Halise, because I’m only going to say this once.”

Halise lifted her head and folded her hands across her lap. She chewed on her lip before nodding to Dorian to continue.

“That man used to be a Templar. He was trained from an undoubtedly young age to harbor some level of distrust for mages. I would imagine that he has seen some unfortunate things, as well, given the places he has happened to be and the times he happened to be there. By bringing back free mages, not unlike myself, you shook him up. Everything he has ever known is different now. I know you can’t fully understand what that means to someone like him because you have roamed the Free Marches for most of your life, avoiding all of this nonsense.

“But,” he persisted, “after his snap judgment, he has had time to cool off, and I truly believe that he understands why you made your choice now. I’ve seen him and spoken to him since, and by the way, his tent was filled with what I can only assume were crumpled up drafts of the letter sitting beside you.”

Halise looked to the letter and then back to Dorian, pressing her lips together. She wanted to read it, but she was worried she would have to let go of her anger if she did that. It was nestled in a heavy ball in her stomach, and it hurt. But she was terrified that if she let it go she might drift away after all that had happened. She understood after seeing all of that horror that more sat on her shoulders than she could ever have realized when she woke up in that little jail cell under the Chantry.

She also wished she could explain why she understood more about mages and Templars than she let on.

“Read it,” Dorian urged her. “I will stay or go if you like but to put yourself and everyone around you to rights, you must read it.”

She nibbled on the inside of her lip again as she reached for the letter. She flipped it over several times. Her name was written on the front in a firm script. Undoubtedly Cullen’s writing. Neat and clean, but thick enough to tell that he pressed down hard on his pens when he wrote. The back was sealed with red wax stamped with the Inquisition’s sigil: a sunburst, a sword, and a mildly unsettling eye.

“Do you want me to stay?” Dorian asked soothingly, standing with his hands on the chair so he could move whichever direction she wanted him to go.

The corner of Halise’s mouth twitched, and looking at Dorian, she patted a spot next to her on the bed. Without another word he moved to sit beside her. He sat close, but didn’t touch her or disturb her, which was exactly what she needed right now. Just someone near in case she came apart who might help put her back together again.

She broke the seal, unfolded the letter, and began to read.

 _~~Herald,~~ _ _Halise,_

_I wanted to express my sincerest apologies for the way I behaved the other day. I realize that my outburst happened just after we spoke about my trust and faith in you, and you must think me a cruel and changeful cur. I swear to you, I am no longer that person. Which is to say, I once was._

_Please know that by telling you this I am in no way attempting to excuse my behavior. I acted dishonorably when we last spoke and there is nothing I can do to justify that. But I saw so many terrible things in my time as a Templar. I saw failed harrowings, abominations, blood magic, and ~~tortu~~ worse. I watched many people die, both in the Ferelden and Kirkwall Circles. It made me very distrustful and angry for a long time. I had hoped I was past all that, however, what happened when you came back from Redcliffe has shown me that I still have more work to do._

_I meant what I said during our walk. I do trust you. Not just with the Inquisition, but with my life as well. I understand that it will likely be some time before I may earn your trust back, and I deserve that for the way I treated you. But please know, I find your courage and decisiveness deeply admirable, and hope that once I have earned your trust, however far off that may be, that we remain friends. I would ~~desire~~ ~~relish~~ appreciate the opportunity to share your council and more laughter with you._

_Whatever you do, and whether you must do it despite me or not, please never lose your smile._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Cullen_

_P.S. Dorian told me a more detailed version of the events at Redcliffe than what you included in your report. I need you to know that, even if the future were to become what you saw as soon as tomorrow, I would not regret any of the time we have spent together. Your company and kindness have brought more meaning to my life in the past month and a half than I have ever felt. I will always swell with pride at having been in your presence and, better than that, having been the object of even one instant of your gaze._

Halise watched a tear hit the parchment and immediately scrambled to dab it off with her sleeve. She was right to keep Dorian there with her. She came apart. She inhaled deeply, and though she tried to exhale slowly, she burst into tears.

She let her forehead fall onto Dorian’s shoulder. He swept her up into a tight embrace and rubbed his hands down her head and back, cooing soothing sounds to her as she sobbed.

Once she started to regain her composure just a bit, she pulled her head back upright and thrust the letter into Dorian’s hand to read.

As he read, she hiccupped to him, “W-where does h-h-he get off being so fucking sweet and v-v-vulnerable?!” She wiped the sleeve of her blue tunic across her face before crossing her arms petulantly.

Dorian looked pleasantly befuddled as he finished reading the letter. “Goodness me,” he said while ghosting his fingers over his chest, “the late addition really was worth standing in his tent in the middle of all those sweaty, clanging warriors!”

Halise looked up at him with a look that was simultaneously pleading and frustrated. She needed to know how to respond to this. She couldn’t think straight with all of Cullen’s words bouncing around in her head.

He returned her gaze with a face confirming that her next move was painfully obvious. “Dear, sweet Halise, you must go speak to him!”

She looked down and wrung her fingers. “Okay, I’ll find him in the morning and talk to him.”

“Maker, no!” Dorian exclaimed. “You have to go talk to him right now! Hurry, while you still look devastated!” He stood and motioned for her to join him.

Her eyes widened. “You have to be actually kidding me right now.” She sniffled again. Creators, she wasn’t even done crying yet!

“Not in the least!” he cried. “You must meet vulnerability with vulnerability—like fighting fire with fire!”

“But I don’t want to fight! Fire or anything else! I just want to stew in my weird emotions overnight.”

With that, Dorian grabbed Halise by the hand and dragged her onto her feet. She ripped her hand out of his and clutched it to her chest, shooting him a wounded look.

“What in the damn Void are you doing? You’re gonna make me go out there like this?” She was whining now.

“Without a doubt in my brilliant mind.”

Dorian situated himself behind Halise and began shoving her out the door. She went along, walking like a sulking child who was about to be spanked.

“Fine,” she pouted, “but I’m coming for you when this goes horribly. I suggest you take a good look at your well-manicured mustache while it’s still on your face.”

“Idle threats do not become you, Halise,” Dorian smirked. “Just go. It will be fine.”

 _Creators damn this mage_ , she thought as she walked toward the training grounds in the dark. Why was she constantly being forced to do things that were so…stupid?!

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **sniffles**
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	13. Chapter 13

“Cullen?”

The Commander straightened from his desk and the report he was going over. Had someone just called his name?

“Cullen, are you in there?” a female voice softly asked.

Cullen pushed himself back from his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was getting late and his candle was starting to dim. The headache he had been developing for the past few hours was beginning to get much worse.

The lyrium withdrawal combined with everything else going on was making him feel ill. He hadn’t told Halise that he had stopped taking the lyrium yet. He didn’t think it had become relevant, and there hadn’t really be a good time to broach the subject. Still, it was on his to-do list.

He had already removed his armor for the evening and was wearing his normal breeches and a lambswool tunic. He stood from his chair to see who was calling for him.

When he opened the flap of his tent he saw a blonde-haired blue-eyed woman standing before him. One of his soldiers. “Keir?” he asked, more than a little confused.

She was wearing what looked to him like a night shirt with black breeches underneath. The shirt was untucked and clung to parts of her that Cullen felt would be inappropriate to examine any further. This was the first time he had seen Keir’s hair down, and it hung around her shoulders, brushing her collarbones.

“I—I wanted to speak to you about something,” she said tentatively. “May I come in?”

“Alright, Keir,” Cullen replied, confounded. He held open the entryway to the tent as she ducked in.

Once she was inside, he remained standing, but she sat down on his bed. Cullen crossed his arms. He was tiring of this conversation already. “What did you need?” he asked her, believing his irritation came through in his voice.

The soldier drew small shapes on her palm with the fingers of her other hand. She looked up at him and said simply, “You.”

Cullen’s face flushed and a mix of emotions tore through him, none of them positive. “W-what?! Recruit Keir, please explain to me what this is about.” He was still angry, and it was starting to boil within him. If this woman did not begin to make sense or leave his tent soon, he was going to have to remove her himself.

“Well, Cullen—” she started.

“Commander or Ser,” Cullen interjected.

“Well,” she began again, “you’ve been paying me a lot of extra attention in training lately, and I thought I sensed something between us. An attraction. So I decided that now was the time, and came here to offer myself to you fully.”

Cullen pinched between his eyes again. This was making his headache much worse. “Keir,” he said mater-of-factly, “I have been paying you extra attention in training because you are arrogant.”

The woman’s eyes widened. If Cullen wasn’t mistaken, she started to tear up.

“You have gotten too big for your breeches, and as a result your skills are not improving. You have stagnated and might even be getting a little worse. Just because you were better than everyone a month or even a week ago doesn’t mean that you don’t need to keep learning, and does not excuse your attitude,” Cullen said.

“W-what?” It was Keir’s turn to stammer in confusion.

“There is nothing and can be nothing between us, Keir,” he continued. “I would like you to leave my quarters now. I will find another two-handed instructor for you in the morning. I will no longer be supervising your training.”

Cullen moved to the front of his tent and held it open, waiting for the impertinent woman to leave. When she did not stand immediately, he felt his rage bubble inside of him. He was only a breath away from snapping.

He could see that Keir had begun to cry, tears sliding down her face pitifully. “You unbelievable bastard,” she muttered, staring into his eyes.

Cullen simply lifted his eyebrow at that. He had had enough. He took two large steps back toward the woman and hauled her up by her shoulders. She dug her heels into the ground as he began to push her out of his tent, so he wrapped his right arm around her waist and lifted her facing away from him.

He carried her out of the tent in silence as she made undignified noises and hurled insults at him. He set her down firmly several feet outside of his tent, spun her to face him and looked her in the eye as he held her shoulders. “Any further insubordination, recruit, and I will remove you from your post and send you back to wherever it is you came from. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior from a soldier of the Inquisition. You are dismissed.”

Without staying to ensure she left, he turned on his heel and re-entered his tent, clipping the flap closed with a wooden clothespin. _Maker’s breath_ , he thought. The boldness of his former trainee had irked him so, Cullen’s headache had increased to a nearly intolerable level. He decided to lie down and try to sleep.

He’d been lying on top of his covers for about five minutes when he heard shuffling around outside of his tent. Exasperated, he rolled himself back to a sitting position and put his boots back on to see what was going on. _If this is that Maker-damned woman again there will be retribution_ , he thought as he unclipped the clothespin from his tent and stepped out.

One of the former Templars that had joined the Inquisition several weeks earlier, a man in his early twenties, was running around to everyone in the vicinity telling them something Cullen couldn’t quite hear.

“Soldier,” Cullen called out, waving him over.

The man scurried over to him and gave a quick salute. “Ser, I apologize if I disturbed you, but I was letting everyone know that the Herald is going to sing again in the tavern again. It’s always so much more fun when she starts up, I thought the soldiers who weren’t on duty could take a break.” He looked very excited about the prospect, an open-mouthed smile stretched his face.

Cullen instantly brightened. Halise had come out of her house and was already singing. He wanted to go to the tavern and see her—speak to her if he could. But he was always hesitant when entering the tavern. He didn’t want his subordinates to feel stifled by his presence.

However, he was not in his armor now, and thought he might go a little more unnoticed if he went in as he was. He smiled at the soldier and said, “I do believe I’ll come and have a listen myself. Head on up there, soldier. I won’t tell anyone who told me.”

The recruit laughed a bit and gave one more quick salute before walking briskly toward the tavern. Cullen followed shortly thereafter. He felt something stirring in his chest. He was excited.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but necessary...
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you know what? BONUS CHAPTER for today! In part because I feel bad the last chapter was so short, but MOSTLY because I'm anxious to see what you think of the musical integration that starts in this chapter and continues moving forward.
> 
> So, to kick this off, here's [the song](https://youtu.be/NYWzJrY3JPw?t=56s). Give it a listen if you like! You can try it after you read or while you read, up to you. But please let me know if you think this works. ^_^

“Cullen…” Halise murmured as she saw him.

She had gone at Dorian’s insistence to have a genuine talk with Cullen. She was shuffling down the walkway toward his tent when she looked up and saw a woman already standing outside of it. The woman was young and fair-haired. She was pretty.

As Halise stood paralyzed, she saw Cullen open the tent, and heard herself say his name quietly. He and the woman said something to each other that Halise was too far away to hear. Then the woman ducked into Cullen’s tent.

The tears on Halise’s face had only dried moments before after reading the seemingly heartfelt letter he had sent to her through Dorian, and she found her cheeks moistened by their brethren again as she stood, unable to move, looking at the inauspicious outside of Cullen’s tent. She felt her emotions shift from sorrow to anger.

Dorian was an idiot, and so was she. Cullen even said in his letter that he wanted to be her friend. Halise had no idea what she went to him expecting, but she knew in that moment she had been foolish. Foolish to believe herself, and more foolish to believe the words in that letter.

Suddenly, Halise just needed to be away from there. She pivoted herself in the opposite direction of Cullen’s tent and started to make her way to the tavern. She knew Dorian would be there, and she was more ready than ever to rip him a new asshole—several, in fact.

She approached the tavern and swung the door open with murder in her eyes, quickly scanning the room for Dorian. She spotted him quickly, seated in the corner with Sera, who looked more than a little inebriated, and was mostly unconscious lying on the table.

Halise stomped over to them. Dorian looked surprised to see her. “Back so soon, my sweet?” he asked.

“I was certain your ‘heartfelt talk’ with the Commander would take longer than a few minutes.” Dorian made little air quotes. “But then, that man is wound so tight, it has probably been a while,” he said as he brought his finger to his lips thoughtfully.

Halise stared daggers into him. “You son of a nug’s ass!” she growled at him, making sure to keep her voice low so she wouldn’t be heard by nearby ears. “He had a woman in there! I saw her go in just as I got there. You set me up, you Tevinter bastard!” It took everything in her to keep her volume low.

“He…What?!” Dorian blurted, much louder than Halise liked. “That sly dog!”

Halise couldn’t maintain her scowl, and tears began to pool in her eyes again. She sank heavily into the chair across from Dorian. He observed her expression and his face softened into something resembling pity.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he said quietly. “I didn’t realize that he…I didn’t realize.” He reached across the table to brush a tear from her cheek.

“It’s fine,” she sniffed. “I don’t know what I was thinking. He said in that letter that he wanted to be my friend. I shouldn’t have been so surprised.” Halise held the cuff of her sleeve in her palm as she used the shirt-covered heel of her hand to wipe her face.

“Well whatever you read in that letter, I read the same words. So it seems that you and I were equally bamboozled.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments. Sera lightly snored in her drunken slumber. Halise quickly began to feel very antsy, and needed to move. She glanced over to where Maryden, the bard, normally stood with her lute. She had sat down at the bar and was talking to the bartender, Flissa. Halise made up her mind that she needed to sing to let some of what she was feeling escape her body.

She stood and walked over to the corner near the fireplace. Several of the soldiers saw her taking her place and recognize that she was going to sing again. They began to whoop, holler, and clap as she smiled softly at them. She smiled and waited for them to ease back to a dull roar.

Ordinarily, she would sing something that everyone knew so the people could sing along. She couldn’t muster the kind of energy she needed to do something like that, however, and decided on a song that she had heard in a tavern in her more recent travels. She took a deep breath and began.

_Speak plain he said_

_But didn't see_

_He acted that way_

_And held me like a cup_

_Fill me up then pour me out_

_Therein lies the doubt._

_We had the same feelings_

_At opposite times._

 

She started to feel lighter as she sang, pouring the anger and sorrow out of herself with every word. Just before she began the chorus, movement drew her eyes to the door. Cullen walked into the tavern wearing a light colored tunic rather than his usual armor, and leaned up against the wall about a foot from the doorway, looking at her with a soft smile.

Her anger suddenly surged back up in her and she continued to sing with more force.

 

_When a good man and a good woman_

_Can't find the good in each other_

_Then a good man and a good woman_

_Will bring out the worst in the other_

_The bad in each other – Oh oh oohh ohh ohh – ohh oh_

 

Halise stared at Cullen as she sang, ignoring everyone else in the room. Near the end of the chorus she felt tears pricking at her eyes once more, and decided that she could let them flow. This was a performance, after all, and she figured that the soldiers and workers would just see it as part of the act.

 

_But what and how_

_To find us now_

_When we've become two_

_Fluorescently blue_

_Down the neon river_

_The sadness canoes_

_Either without or with her_

 

_When a good man and a good woman_

_Can't find the good in each other_

_Then a good man and a good woman_

_Will bring out the worst in the other_

_When a good man and that good woman_

_Can't find the good in each other_

_Then a good man and a good woman_

_Will bring out the worst in the other_

_The bad in each other – Oh oh oohh_

 

As Halise sang and wept, she saw Cullen’s expression shift. His jaw clenched, and she saw his eyes change. She couldn’t tell if it was anger, concern, or sadness, but she wanted him to feel whatever it was. She didn’t even entirely know why. She just needed him to feel it.

She wiped her face on the back of her hand nonchalantly before bowing and grinning to everyone else in the tavern. She had to keep up the act. The moment she finished Cullen began to walk over to her, his every movement firm and purposeful. The number of people in the tavern had grown exponentially since she started, however, and he was having difficulty getting to her.

Halise started for the door. She had almost made it out when Cullen caught her by her elbow. She swung around and stared into his eyes. The same look was still on his face, and she was becoming more certain it was anger.

She jerked her arm from his hand and took several steps toward the door, looking at him the whole time. He tried to follow her again, but the crowd was clamoring around her and filled in the space she created very quickly.

Once she was outside, Halise let out a quiet sob and dropped her hands to her knees. She stayed hunched over like that, breathing deeply to calm herself, until she heard the door open behind her. Dragging her finger under her eye to wipe away the last vestige of her weeping, she quickly straightened and began to walk back toward her house.

Before she could take a step, she felt a strong hand clamp around her bicep and spin her around. Cullen was holding onto her, his honey-colored eyes searching her face. He was so close she could feel the breath from his open mouth on her lips and nose—he was breathing hard. She wrested the shock from her face to look at him as forcefully as she could muster.

“Halise,” he said softly. She began the think the look in his eyes was not anger, but sorrow.

She moved to once again pull herself from his grasp, but his strong hands gripped her, and refused to release her.

“Commander,” she said firmly, letting her defiant stare drill into him, “inform everyone that I’ll be closing the Breach tomorrow.”

Cullen’s shock was visible on his face as he pulled his head away from Halise’s. He still held a tight grip on her arm.

She said flatly, “Please let me go now.” Without another sound or motion he released her, still breathing heavily.

Halise couldn’t keep her composure under the batter of his gaze any longer, so she turned from him and began the walk back to her house. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest as she stomped along the path in the dark.

_It’ll serve him right if I die_ , she thought.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eesh... Someone's pissed.
> 
> The lyrics used in this chapter are taken from Feist's song "The Bad in Each Other." If you haven't already listened, whether you do it for the story or not, I suggest you check it out! The link at the top starts the video when the song starts, but you can also start it from the beginning [here](https://youtu.be/NYWzJrY3JPw).
> 
> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	15. Chapter 15

“Please,” Cullen said to Cassandra, “help me gather up the mages and whoever else we need to bring with us to the temple. The Herald is ready to close the Breach.”

It had been a long night for him and he hadn’t slept. He had allowed himself to get excited to see Halise—to hear her sing and have a chance to clear the air with her. To apologize for his behavior in person and let her know how important she had become to him. But when he arrived in the tavern, she simply stared at him, tears falling from her eyes, and sang that song. Maker, her voice was beautiful even when he was certain she was telling him that he brought out the worst in her, and that she thought she brought out the worst in him.

He knew she didn’t bring out the worst in him. He had warmed so significantly in the time since he met her. She thought he was funny and she made him laugh. He just wanted to be around her more because he believed he became the best man he could be in her presence.

But Halise thought Cullen made her worse than herself. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. He had poured his heart into a letter, and it seemed it had only been detrimental to their relationship. She had ripped herself violently from him. Wishing he could be angry with her or feel scorned, he just felt broken and hollow—like he might float away in a strong breeze. She must not have felt for him what he felt for her, and his letter must have angered her. More than anything, he was sorry.

“What?” Cassandra looked surprised. “But only yesterday she was refusing to talk to anyone. Now she wants to go and close the Breach? Today?”

Cullen watched for a moment as Cassandra scrambled around, gathering her sword and shield and jamming her feet into her boots in her tent. Hers was next to his, so she was the first one he told. Now it was time to go up to the Chantry and tell Leliana and Josephine. He was not looking forward to springing a surprise on either of them.

Leliana responded about how he had expected, with a glare, some muttering about how they were unprepared with too few agents in the area. Josephine reminded him of a distraught little girl when he told her. She stamped her feet lightly, huffed, and began to shout about how she had had no time to prepare a proper feast for when the Herald returned triumphant. The ambassador set to work furiously scribbling on parchment as he left her office to begin gathering the mages and Halise’s party members.

Cullen began at the Chantry and worked his way back down toward his tent. He notified Vivienne on his way out the door, and she gave a slow graceful nod. When he approached Dorian and Sera, both had seemed more than a bit miffed at him, so he put on his best Commander face and told them to move out. Solas was the same eerie calm as usual, smiling slightly as he picked up his staff to head out. Varric quipped yet again about Cullen’s dour expression. Blackwall nodded quietly as he picked up his shield and sword, staring at the Breach all the while.

Cullen intentionally left Iron Bull for last. “Bull,” he called out to him.

“Yeah, boss?” The heaping Qunari turned to face him with that perpetual slight smirk still glued to his visage.

“Two things,” Cullen started. “First, you need to get your maul because the Herald is about to go and close the Breach.”

Bull raised his single eyebrow. “The little redhead is ready now, huh?”

Cullen cleared his throat. He was not a fan of Bull’s tone. A bit too salacious for his liking. “The second thing I needed to discuss with you was your offer to train some of the recruits that favor two-handed weapons—is that still something you’re willing to do?”

“Always, Commander,” Bull replied. “Why? You got someone that needs special attention?” He crossed his muscular arms.

“Uh—well, yes, actually. I can no longer supervise the training of recruit Keir. She accosted me in my tent last night—tried to…maneuver herself at me. She was less than pleased when I physically removed her from my quarters.”

Iron Bull let out a great laugh at that. “Shit, boss! You’ve got women hurling themselves at you and you send them packing?! _And_ you shove them off to another trainer? You and I are even more different than I thought!” He chuckled again.

Cullen looked at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck. His face was flushing. No one else needed to know about his appreciation for one woman in particular. “Yes, well…I don’t want to create the appearance of any impropriety, for her sake and mine. So do you mind if I send a few other recruits along with her? I don’t want to cause unnecessary trouble for you.”

“All good, boss. I told you before, I’m happy to impart my _breadth_ of knowledge on your soldiers.” Cullen couldn’t tell if Bull had blinked or winked, but whatever he saw was vaguely unsettling.

Certain he was bearing witness to an aggressive double entendre, Cullen simply said, “Thank you, Bull,” and turned toward Halise’s house. He needed to tell her everyone was ready for her.

Notwithstanding everything that had happened, he was looking forward to seeing Halise. She spurned him and still he would follow her. Even though she did not share his feelings, whatever they really were, he wanted to be around her, even if was just in an advisory capacity. Though her smile would be directed at someone else, he only felt the desire to bask in its glow.

He steeled himself before knocking on her door, not wanting her to see the distress he could feel wrinkling his brow. As he took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock, the door flew open. Halise was already dressed in her light armor, her small, angular breastplate barely blocking her heart. Her long blue coat fit her snugly, accentuating her figure. She had gathered her long loose-spiraled red hair into a ponytail, the first time he had ever seen it like that. Her countenance was unimpeded and striking. The roundness of her face highlighted the roundness of her bright green and yellow eyes. On the gentle line of her jaw he saw a small scar creep toward her pointed left ear.

Halise stared blankly at Cullen, lips slightly parted. He could just see her wide teeth beneath her lips. She stayed like that for a moment before blinking hard and shaking her head slightly.

“Is everyone ready to go?” she asked, unusually toneless.

“Yes-uh…my lady,” Cullen stammered. He figured she didn’t want him calling her by her first name anymore, but also knew how much she hated being called Herald. She had begun saying her name so frequently to get people to stop calling her Herald that it began to sound like a verse from the Chant.

Maker, he would speak that verse—sing it forever—if she would only turn her smile to him once more.

“Good,” she said as she stepped out and closed the door behind her. “Let’s do this.”

The two of them walked side by side in silence until they reached Halise’s party. All at once she perked up, rushing over to Sera and tangling their limbs together.

As everyone began to walk in the direction of the temple, a quiet settled back over the large caravan. An undeniable tension hung in the air as everyone seemed to contemplate whether this would work at all.

Halise and Sera walked with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists, Halise looking down and Sera periodically whispering into her ear and putting her free hand on Halise’s shoulder to lightly shaker her. Cullen looked on, envious of the uncouth elf with whom Halise seemed to share an unbreakable bond. He wanted to be the one comforting her right now.

No one was sure whether Halise’s mark would work to close the Breach. Worse, no one knew whether she would survive the power and magic that would have to be forced through her body to strengthen the mark enough to even try. A thick lump formed in Cullen’s throat as he let the thought of her dying overtake him. He had to open his mouth and take a deep rasping breath to stop from crying out.

When the large group reached the temple, Cullen fortified himself for what was about to happen. With little more than a word spoken, Halise made her way down with a little hop to ground at the base of the massive column of light descending from the Breach, her mark flaring to life. Before Cullen could process what was going on, Solas was already shouting to the tremendous cluster of mages gathered above Halise.

“Mages,” he shouted, “focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!”

The mass of mages slammed their staves into the ground and Cullen grew slightly nauseous from the tremendous volume of magic fumes in the air, thunder growing in his temples. Halise held up her marked hand, pushing through the thick cloud of magic. She grimaced as she thrust her hand skyward, connecting to the Breach.

Halise was rapidly surrounded by a bright green glow. Her mark pulsed as the connection lifted her a foot off the ground. She cast her eyes upward, chest and shoulders expanding and contracting violently as she struggled to breathe against the power surging through her. Her face was nearly as pained as it had been the first time Cullen saw her. He realized he was holding his breath as she dangled in the air, grappling with the Breach.

Suddenly, Halise cried out as the column of light expanded around her. It was so bright Cullen had to turn his head away. A cacophonous rumble shook from the Breach just before it sent a shockwave shooting out in a wide radius around the light. Solas and the other mages were all knocked off their feet.

The impact of the shockwave sent Halise flying through the air, smashing her against the wall off of which several of the mages had fallen. She wasn’t moving.

Cullen surged toward her before he had the chance to realize he was running. He leapt from what was left of a balcony within the temple, hitting the ground with the clatter of his armor and thud about ten yards away from Halise. As he moved to close the distance, she stirred.

Solas had already gotten to Halise’s side before Cullen could even get close. The elven mage was pouring healing magic into her, reviving her quickly and allowing her to get back to her feet.

As she stood, a roaring cheer rose into the air from everyone present, making Cullen’s pounding heartbeat almost inaudible as he caught his breath. Sera came tearing through the crowd and nearly tackled Halise, cackling the whole time. Halise let out a quiet laugh as she wrapped her arms around Sera, still clearly very tired.

 _Maker, thank you_ , Cullen thought. She had survived. Everyone had survived, and the Breach was finally closed. A sudden fear caught in his throat.

Would Halise leave him—them—now that the Breach was sealed? No one knew the impact that sealing the colossal rift would have on Thedas. Would she decide she had accomplished her mission and move on?

Cullen couldn’t handle that thought right now. He slid it to the back of his mind to allow himself to simply be grateful she was alive. She was alive.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update today. I'm back at work and haven't figured out the timing for this quite yet. I can't use my work computer for it...Especially not for future chapters. ^_~
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	16. Chapter 16

“Please!” Halise shouted cloyingly at Varric. “Please teach me how to play Wicked Grace! Now that the Breach is closed, I have time to learn!”

The dwarf laughed. “Alright,” he said. “But we can’t start until tomorrow. I’ve already had a bit too much to drink, and I think I might not be able to tell the difference between daggers and serpents.”

The celebration raged on around them as they sat in the courtyard outside the Chantry. People were dancing and laughing as far as Halise could see. She was pretty sure she had seen a mage and a former Templar go sneaking off behind a building.

Halise beamed in the face of this revelry, allowing herself a moment to come to grips with the fact that she had done it. She sealed the Breach and made Thedas a safer place once more. She didn’t want to spend this time thinking about what might happen. That Cassandra and Leliana might realize they had no more use for her and ask her to leave. Or, she admitted to herself, that Cullen would discover how pointless her presence was without the evil hole in the sky staring at them every day. She was still so angry at him, but a big part of her ached at the thought that he might shun her out of the Inquisition, and his life, when she wore out her usefulness.

Joy continued to fill the air, and Halise shook herself out of her lapse in positivity. Everything would be alright, no matter what happened. She looked around at the odd band of friends she had collected, so different but all there for the same reasons. No one could drum her out, not with this group at her back.

“Well, I’m never one to leave the party early,” Iron Bull said as he stood from his place around the fire, “but I have to set up a new training regimen for some of the Commander’s two-handed recruits. I start with them tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Halise asked, curiosity piqued. It wasn’t as if Cullen gave up training his recruits easily. It seemed to be one of the things he enjoyed most—shaping the style and ferocity with which the Inquisition’s forces fought.

“How’d you end up with _that_ job?” she continued.

He walked around behind her and leaned closer to her ear. “Don’t tell Cullen I told you this, but apparently some recruit—cute, blonde, likes to swing a greatsword—tried to seduce him last night. She went into his tent and threw herself at him, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t literally grab her and throw her out!” Bull sounded deeply shocked and amused by the thought of it all.

“What?!” Halise basically shouted as she spun her head toward Iron Bull. That had been much louder than she wanted. Slightly mortified at the volume of her response, she slowly scanned the faces of her friends, who had turned to see what had made such a sound. She smiled sheepishly at each of them as she turned her head back toward Bull.

“What?” she rasped at him, as if somehow asking more quietly would undo what had just happened.

“You heard me, boss. He’s got women fawning over him, and he’s just hurling them out into the dirt without a thought. It’s a shame, really. That man is wound tighter than your bowstring.” He looked thoughtful as he mused over Cullen’s open ire for a woman trying to get into his bed. As Bull shook himself out of his thoughts, he said, “Anyway, he didn’t want to cause a stir in the ranks, so he’s sending a group of the two-handers to start training with me. I’ve got to get going to figure out where to start with these unpolished stones.”

A rush of emotions—a lot of different ones—came crashing down on Halise like a wave as she watched Iron Bull walk toward his tent. Cullen did _what_? Was that the woman Halise had seen outside of his tent? Bull said blonde, that matched up. But what?! She saw the woman go into his tent. He let her in there. Halise thought she had been standing frozen there for an eternity, but now it seemed as if she had missed the most important part of the interaction. Did Cullen, the staunch, level-headed Commander of the Inquisition, really pick a woman up and throw her out of his tent for trying to have sex with him?!

Halise realized her face had twisted itself into a slightly crazed expression when Dorian sidled up beside her with strange smile on his face. “You’re beginning to look a bit rabid,” he said. “Care to share what’s bouncing around in that head of yours?”

She leaned closer to his ear as she whispered to him what Bull told her. When she brought her head back, his eyebrows were raised, his face stuck with a look of astonishment. Slowly the expression melted into a grin.

Dorian chuckled as he said, “Leave it to our dear Commander to toss an open invitation for sex out on her ass in the snow. Is that what you saw last night? That woman going into his tent? Was that her?”

“That’s why my face was all screwed up just now, Dorian!” She was whisper-shouting at him. “I was trying to figure that out. I think it was. Looking back, I must only have been standing there for a few seconds before I came running to you. The woman I saw was blonde, just like Bull said. Realistically, the timing lines up. I think it was her!” Halise had been making tense, jerky hand gestures as she explained her logic.

“Well that’s it, then!” Dorian quietly exclaimed. “You’ve been so nasty to him since last night! You must go and clear the air, once and for all.”

Halise waved her hands in a signal for him to stop. “Ohh no, Dorian. I’m not falling for that again. Last time I took your advice it ended rather poorly.”

“To be fair,” he replied, mock-offense tickling at his voice, “it hasn’t even been a full day since then. And I’ll have you know my track record for advice is very solid!”

Halise shot him a skeptical look. “Even so, this time I really am going to sleep on it. I could still have been right about the rest of it. Him just wanting to be my war-buddy and all that. Tonight, I’m just going to have fun with my merry band of weirdos!” She waved her hand in a grandiose motion sweeping over her friends.

At that moment, the alarm bells from the watchtowers began to ring out loudly all over Haven. Halise rolled her eyes and threw her head back, long ponytail brushing down the length of her back. “Fenedhis! They really _cannot_ be serious about this right now!” she groaned.

A great sigh escaped her body as she grabbed her bow and stood reluctantly to make her way to the front gates. The sound of celebration had been snuffed out like a low burning candle, leaving only the foul feeling of fear lingering in the air. People murmured as they milled about, speculating as to what the cause was for the alarm.

A noise echoed from the Chantry door as Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana came running out. Halise joined them on the walk to the front, anxious to learn what had disrupted them yet again. Halise thought Cullen could see something she couldn’t, because he shouted as they walked, “Forces approaching! To arms!”

“What?” Halise asked. “What forces?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But the scouts in the watchtowers have explicit instructions not to use that alarm unless an army—or something worse—approaches Haven.”

“Great,” Halise scoffed. “More bullshit.”

When they reached the gate, a female scout with her hood up ran toward them. She panted as she spoke. “There’s a massive force heading this way, Ser. The bulk of them are over the mountain, but they are approaching fast.”

Cullen scowled at the news. “Under what banner?”

The scout’s eyes widened. “None, Ser.”

Josephine chimed in, “None?!”

Halise heaved a sigh. “Fenedhis,” she said bluntly.

Just then, she saw several bright flashes from under the gate. The doors battered inward with a clatter. Halise backed up, drawing her bow and nocking an arrow.

A quiet male voice spoke from the other side of the doors. “I can’t come in unless you open!” it cried.

Halise gasped and rushed toward the gate to open the doors. How had they left someone out there alone? As she swung the door open, she jumped back at the sight of a heavily armored soldier just on the other side making his way toward her.

The soldier’s body arched backward in an instant, then fell, leaving a thin young man wearing a very wide-brimmed hat standing in his place. Halise ran toward him. “What’s going on, here? Who are you and how did you get locked out of the gates before we closed them?”

“I’m Cole,” the young man replied from under the brim of his hat. His tone was breathy and soft. “I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”

He moved toward Halise as he spoke. The hairs on her arms rose as he approached her. “The Templars come to kill you,” he said softly.

“Templars?!” Cullen thundered up behind her. The boy jumped backward, drawing his two daggers in front of him defensively. “Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?!”

Halise could see the pain of betrayal on Cullen’s face. He had trusted the Templars. He put his faith in them over the mages when Halise had to choose who to get to help her close the Breach. Now they were attacking.

The boy interjected, “The Red Templars went to the Elder One. You know him?” He glanced back and forth between Halise and Cullen. “He knows you. You took his mages. There.” He pointed up at the mountains.

A look of agitated shock fell over Cullen’s face as the three of them saw the leaders of this army cresting the ridge. “I know that man,” he said, referring to the greasy looking, dark-haired Templar that stood there.

Next to the Templar was a hulking, deformed beast of a man. His face was sickly pale and twisted. Red lyrium shards sprung from his face and back, and his hands were long jagged claws. His chest was covered in a malformed metal and bone breastplate, but his waist was so thin his ribs and hip bones jutted out, skin sallow and tight.

Cole spoke up as they looked on. “He’s very angry that you took his mages.”

Halise turned to Cullen. “Cullen, you’re the military mastermind. What do we do here?”

He glanced at her before turning back toward the ridge. His eyes were locked on the greasy Templar. “Haven is no fortress,” he finally said. “If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. Use the trebuchets to take out as many of them as you can. The landscape and the snow are vital tools—they can wipe out everyone on the mountain without destroying Haven.”

Cullen turned to the force of Inquisition soldiers and mages that had grown behind them. Halise watched him with what she could only think to describe as awe. This was the first time she was seeing him truly command in battle. He was strong, forceful, and deliberate, and even she believed they could defeat anything because of his aggressive confidence.

“Soldiers! Mages!” Cullen shouted as he drew his sword from its sheath. “You have sanction to engage the Red Templars! They are commanded by Samson, and he will not make this easy! Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!!!”

He raised his sword with the swell of cheers and battle cries emanating from behind him. Halise swallowed thickly. This man was truly something to behold. She felt a sensation she couldn’t quite place swell low within her. Shaking her head, she turned from him and ran toward the fray.

The Red Templars were mangled, twisted men. They looked almost like smaller versions of the Elder One. Red lyrium crystals sprang from their bodies in every direction, making it especially necessary to avoid being struck.

Halise loosed arrow after arrow into what began to seem like a never ending onslaught of mutilated monster-men. Sera, Dorian, and Iron Bull had quickly made their way to Halise’s side. Iron Bull bellowed with laughter and went careening toward a massive soldier. Dorian and Sera hung back alongside Halise, sending fireballs and arrows flying into the disfigured force.

One Red Templar got too close to Halise, so she backflipped away from him, loosing several arrows as she soared through the air. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial of poison. It would cause wounds from her arrows to fester and burn immediately, slowing the Templars down for her to plant arrows into them more cleanly. She rubbed the arrow rest of her bow with the poison so her arrows would pick it up as they swept past.

As they cut down the last of the first wave, several Inquisition soldiers managed to fire one of the trebuchets, striking a large hole in the incoming horde on the mountainside. Not good enough. Halise and her party ran to the next nearest trebuchet to clear the Templars. She hoped this one would hit the sweet spot on the mountain and send snow crushing down on the force.

Halise and Sera stood shoulder to shoulder, loosing arrows in every direction. Sera fired an arrow through one of Dorian’s fireballs, and it struck a smaller, dagger-wielding Templar in the neck, setting him alight and screaming in the process. Iron Bull laughed heartily as he tore through soldier after soldier like tissue paper.

The Inquisition soldier who had been preparing to fire the trebuchet they were protecting was struck down by a Red Templar before Halise could stop it. She immediately hooked her bow over her shoulder and ran to finish the job. Her three friends gathered around her, cutting down enemies as she turned the mechanism with every ounce of strength in her body. Finally, she hit the lever, letting the massive boulder fly.

 _Yes!_ It hit exactly the right spot on the mountain, sending an avalanche tearing through the Red Templar forces on the mountain and in the pass. They had done it! Everyone around began cheering as they watched the demolition of the enemy.

All of that ended as quickly as it had begun, as a massive decaying dragon shrieked and flew over Haven. The beast rained down red explosions along its flightpath. Everyone began screaming in terror and running back to the gates of Haven.

Just outside the gates, the blacksmith, Harritt, was struggling to get back into his workshop. It had been blocked by debris from the explosions caused by the dragon. Halise told him to stand back as she lit one of her explosive arrows, loosing it into the debris with a bang. Harritt thanked her as he ran inside.

“Get inside the gates!” Halise shouted at him as she made her way there. She saw him run back out of the building behind her, carrying only a toolbox.

Halise and Cullen stood at the gate, ushering people in until they were informed that no one else was outside that could be saved. They each grabbed a door and slammed them closed.

“Cullen!” Halise could tell she had fear in her eyes when she looked at him. “Now what?”

“We need everyone back in the Chantry, now! It’s the only building that might hold against that—that beast!” He looked forlorn as he said, “At this point, just make them work for it.”

Halise felt the dread pooling inside her as she ran to gather people around Haven and get them into the Chantry. Red Templars were scaling the walls and fighting them every step of the way, making the task increasingly difficult as more things caught on fire and exploded around them. Despite that, they managed to save everyone stuck outside before running into the Chantry themselves.

Chancellor Roderick had been stabbed and was dying, people were crowded into the now-small building cowering. Children were crying. Halise was beginning to lose hope.

Cullen made his way through the crowd toward her. “That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.” His face was disheartened.

Cole interrupted, “That’s not an ordinary dragon. It’s an archdemon. I’ve seen one. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”

“I don’t care what it looks like,” Cullen snapped. “It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”

“Hey!” Halise snarled quietly. “Keep your damn voice down, Cullen! There are terrified people less than three feet from you and this room was made to carry the voices of obnoxious pontificators! They need hope, not to hear that they are all going to die!” Cullen’s face bore the marks of remorse.

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village,” Cole said. “He only wants the Herald.”

That struck a nerve for Halise. “I’d let him have me if it would stop all of this!”

“That’s fucking stupid!” she heard Sera shout from somewhere nearby. The room was so crowded she couldn’t see where her friends were.

“That wouldn’t stop him killing them all anyway,” Cole replied. “He wants to kill you. But he would kill them all just to get to you. I don’t like him.” The boy shuddered.

“You don’t like…” Cullen’s irritation was peeking through again as he threw his arms into a questioning gesture, exasperated. He turned back to Halise and said, “There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche.”

He looked down at the ground, then back up into her eyes. “We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide. We’re dying…but we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice.”

Halise stared at Cullen as her pulse began to pound in her ears. She could vaguely hear Roderick talking about a hidden path, snapping her out of her terror-induced haze. She registered just enough to know what had to be done. _So stupid._

“Cullen, can you get them out?” She looked off to the side as she spoke. She didn’t want to see his face when he realized what she meant.

“What about when the mountain falls? What about you?” He sounded desperate.

She looked back up into his autumnal eyes, a blend of sorrow and determination washed over her face. She pressed her lips together and looked down again, sliding her fingers over her eyebrow.

Cullen shook his head and furrowed his brows. “Perhaps you will surprise it…find a way.”

Halise glanced back up as he turned to command the Inquisition soldiers to follow Roderick and lead the people to safety. When his back was fully turned, she ran out the front door of the Chantry, turning back only to close the door behind her. She saw Cullen turn and see her. He ran toward the door and reached it just as she slammed it shut and brought down a beam to lock them in. Lock them away from this.

She was prepared to die as she turned to face the barrage alone. _So. Damned. Stupid._

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	17. Chapter 17

“Shit!” Cullen shouted as he ran into the now-locked door. “Damnit!” He slammed his fist into the wood several times before he heard Sera running up behind him.

“Where is she?” Sera’s short, self-trimmed hair moved around her face as she looked for Halise.

Cullen couldn’t respond. He just stood there with the side of his fist balled up against the door. Slowly, he turned his head to Sera, then nodded toward the door to let her know that Halise was already gone. Alone.

Sera’s face turned from worried to furious in an instant. She leapt at Cullen, battering him lightly about the chest and arms. “You bloody bastard! How could you let her go out there alone?! She’ll die!!! She’ll die by herself and you let her!” She slowly stopped hitting him as she scrunched her face to stop the tears that were obviously coming, then she turned and walked away. Her yellow plaidweave leggings were quickly obscured by the evacuating throng.

He wanted to say something—to tell her that Halise ran out behind his back—but he also wanted her to be angry at him. He was angry at himself. How could he, indeed? He had failed as Halise’s friend, and now as her protector.

He clenched his jaw as he moved away from the door to meet with the end of the group being lead out of the Chantry. Out to safety. He felt like a coward.

Cullen decided that he wasn’t going to believe that Halise would die. He was going to believe she would live. She had faced so much, and had come out smiling every time. He forced himself to shove away his doubts about her strength and resilience. She would make it through this. They all would! _Maker, keep her safe._

The path Roderick had remembered lead through a series of tunnels. They were small, dark and damp. He and Aldridge, who happened to be the soldier bringing up the rear alongside him, held up torches as they made their way through the tunnels, walking in silence.

Cullen couldn’t see the front of their caravan. There were too many twists and turns, and the group was just too large. He could hear Leliana and Josephine echoing through the tunnels. Then he heard Cassandra’s voice, asking about the Herald. He also heard small children crying, husbands trying to comfort wives, and sisters weeping over lost brothers. He could hear Chantry sisters reciting different verses from the Chant of Light. All of the voices began to meld into a quiet tumult in his ears.

His headache returned slowly and painfully. Cullen felt more guilt wash over him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. What right did he have to be in pain while Halise was outside fighting for them all?

But she wouldn’t die. She couldn’t. Cullen focused on ducking through the tunnels. He had to help an older man who had become exhausted and fallen behind. It felt as if they’d been walking forever. He wasn’t sure how long it had actually been.

Eventually, the tunnels ended, and Cullen exited to a snowy tree-lined path in the mountains somewhere. His head whirled around as he tried to get his bearings. He stepped further away from the tunnel and climbed a small ridge to try and get a better view of where they were.

As he crested the hill, he could see Haven. It looked further away than he had anticipated. He squinted to try and find any sign of Halise. Then he saw it.

The massive dragon—archdemon, whichever it was—standing near the trebuchet that Halise would have had to use to cause the avalanche that would destroy Haven. But not her. Not her.

Smaller than the dragon, but still visible, was the Elder One. He was walking around waving his arms in the air, gesticulating wildly. Was he talking to someone?

 _There!_ Bright red hair. Cullen saw Halise backed up against the side of the trebuchet. She was still alive, but Maker only knew how long that would last if she didn’t learn they were all safe so she could fire the trebuchet.

He ran over to the nearest person with a bow that he could find. Unceremoniously, he snatched the bow and an arrow off the woman’s back, and picked up the torch he had been carrying when he was bringing up the rear of the caravan. He carefully extinguished the flame with his leather-gloved palms, so he would be able to relight the cloth. Cullen carefully unwound the oil-soaked fabric from the torch, and wound it back around the tip of the arrow.

He ran over to Aldridge and grabbed the other torch. Walking back up the ridge, Cullen lit the cloth on the end of the arrow. Once the flame burned bright enough, he aimed almost straight into the air, held for a moment, and loosed the arrow. It soared and arced away from the people. Eventually landing in the snow somewhere down the mountain.

Then he waited. They were so far away he could barely see. But the trebuchet had not been fired yet. Cullen clenched both his fists, having dropped the bow in the snow at his feet. “Come on, Halise,” he whispered, jaw tight and strained.

Without warning or sound, Cullen could see the trebuchet moving. His eyes were drawn to the boulder contained within, which went flying into the side of the mountain. It struck exactly where it needed to, sending the snow and ice crashing down in a tremendous avalanche.

Cullen looked back to where the archdemon and the Elder One were, knowing that Halise should be near them. But he didn’t see her. He couldn’t see her anywhere.

All at once, the archdemon flew away—the Elder One clutched in one of its massive claws—as the avalanche struck, demolishing everything in its path. Maker, was she down there? Did he just see her die?

No. She couldn’t have died. She wasn’t standing at the trebuchet when the avalanche hit. He shook his head, knowing he must look terribly strange to the people around him—he hoped he wasn’t scaring them into believing she had died. She must have escaped.

She must have lived.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ech...short. Sorry...
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	18. Chapter 18

“Shit…” Halise groaned as she lay in the snow. She was underground somewhere, but she didn’t know where. She just saw a really big hole with wood fortifying it and ran toward it. The huge gust of wind preceding the avalanche lifted her into the air and tossed her down the hole, smashing her into wood and rocks on the way down.

As Halise lay there, the side of her face and both her hands freezing in the snow, she tried to take stock of her injuries. She felt warm blood coming from the back of her head and a spot on the side of her neck. A Red Templar—a fucking behemoth—had knocked her sideways pretty hard. The red lyrium sprouting from him had opened her head and neck, but she was grateful she could feel no side effects from the contact. She made a stupid choice to fight alone. She was almost killed at least eight times.

She took a deep breath, noting that at least four of her ribs were probably broken. She inhaled again to double check. Nope, five ribs. “Ow.” Yup, five.

Halise decided it was time to try and get up. She braced her hands below her chest, noting that her left wrist was in a lot of pain where Corypheus had grabbed her and held her up. That was that monster’s name. Corypheus. Coryphy-Ass. Fucker.

She pushed up on her hands, and her left shoulder gave way almost instantly as she dropped on her face with a yelp. It was definitely dislocated. She was going to have to pop it back into the socket. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d done it. She fell out of a tree once when she and Eirlan were playing. They were so scared to get in trouble they decided they would ram her into the trunk of the same tree she fell out of to right her shoulder. It worked then, it would work now.

Halise rolled onto her back and sat up. Her _five_ broken ribs and the surrounding muscles screamed in protest. She used her right arm to help her stand, then took a deep, determined breath. There was a large wooden beam in front of her. It would have to do.

She breathed deeply once more before letting out a powerful shout as she hurled herself toward the beam. A loud bang, accompanied by a popping sound rang through the tunnel as she slammed into the beam shoulder-first. Halise moaned loudly as she held onto her upper arm. It had worked, but it wouldn’t heal properly unless she got herself to a healer. Her mark was acting up, too. Whatever Corypheus had done to it when he tried to strip her of it left it crackling and glowing at her side, a little painful.

Halise had no idea where she was and, consequently, no idea where she was going. But the mine really only had one path, so she decided that was the direction she would be heading. As she walked she noted the pain in one of her calves—maybe a pulled or torn muscle.

Just when it felt like she would never find her way out of the mine shaft, Halise saw light and heard the whistling of wind ahead of her. She tried to speed up, but given how broken much of her body was, that didn’t really pan out.

Once she exited the mine, she spun herself slowly to see if she recognized anything. There was a hard blizzard whirring around her, and everything was white. It was impossible to tell where she was.  

“Fenedhis!” she hissed. It was freezing, and all she had on was her scouting armor, which provided little protection against the icy wind hurtling around her. “Forward,” she said determinedly. “I’ll just walk forward.”

That proved to be a much more difficult task than she had considered. With each step, Halise’s muscles and lungs fought against her. She knew she had been losing a substantial amount of blood from her head and neck wounds, but they were not as warm as they had been, which hopefully meant that they were clotting, and not that she had lost so much blood they couldn’t bleed properly anymore.

She forged ahead for what felt like hours. The snow she was walking in had gotten much deeper. It was up to her knees now. Her arms were clasped around her in a futile effort to keep warm in the face of the blizzard. Her teeth chattered together as she shivered. There had been no signs of anyone along her way, save for a cart that looked like it was abandoned long before she got there.

Her body continued to protest every movement as she trudged—that was the perfect word for it—through the snow. Halise began to get very dizzy from her head injury, and as the world spun she considered sitting down to rest. That was not going to happen. If she sat down now, she would never get up, and she’d be a Hali-sicle before anyone found her. Ha. At least she still had her piquant wit.

Before much more time had passed, it became difficult for Halise to keep her eyes open. She felt her lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she struggled. _Just a little further,_ she thought.

_I didn’t mean it when I thought it would serve Cullen right if I died. It would serve me right, but not him. He’s sweet and funny and not actually an asshole._

The lights were dimming around her, though she could tell they really weren’t. She was going to pass out soon. All she had done and this was how she would go, lost in a snowstorm. She wouldn’t even get to apologize to Cullen for being so awful to him. That was stupid.

So stupi—

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ech!!! Also short!!! Next chapter is longer, I promise. Also, there will be another song!!!
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my tumblr and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! We have another song in this chapter! You can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1Ywmjn_1FU). You may get an ad, so I suggest pre-loading it before you start. Enjoy!

“Go!” Cullen barked at one of Leliana’s scouts. “Do not come back until you have found the Herald!” The scorned scout scurried off with two others in tow.

Cullen had sent out six search parties. Nearly every scout in the Inquisition had been combing the mountains for the last four hours. None had found anything. Not a shred of evidence to tell them where Halise was.

Several scouts returned to Haven, but the snow that had overrun the village was solid. No one would be able to find out who was under it until at least the following afternoon when it had a chance to thaw. _But she isn’t under the snow_ , Cullen thought to himself. She couldn’t be.

He had been pacing around one of the campfires for about half an hour when he decided that the scouts weren’t enough. He needed to go look for her himself. She was needed, so he had to find her. Also, if he stayed here any longer he was liable to cause a mutiny among the soldiers. He had not exactly been…pleasant.

As Cullen stomped toward the edge of the encampment, Cassandra and Leliana ran toward him. “Cullen, where are you going?” Cassandra asked. Her face was tired and worry-worn.

“I can’t stay here while she is lost out there. We need every able-bodied man looking for her. I am able-bodied. I have to look,” Cullen replied firmly.

“You cannot go alone,” Leliana said. “We do not have the resources to search for both you _and_ the Herald if you get lost.”

“Then come with me if you must,” Cullen snapped. “But I will not stand around here twiddling my thumbs any longer!”

“It’s settled then. Let’s go.” Leliana unfolded her arms from where they were perpetually crossed over her chest, and began to walk into the mountains. “I have been examining maps of the area. It appears there is an abandoned iron mine nearby that may have had an opening somewhere close to Haven. None of my scouts have checked this way yet.”

“It sounds promising,” Cullen said. He felt deeply conflicted then. He wanted to find Halise, but he did not want to find her if she was dead. It was growing more difficult to believe she had survived by the hour.

The three of them marched up into the mountains. The valley where they set up camp was comfortably shielded from the blizzard that was apparently saturating the area. Cullen struggled to see ahead of him, and for the first time, he was grateful that his lyrium withdrawals left his body temperature so high. The ice and snow pricked at his ears and nose as he watched the ground ahead of him.

They were walking for almost forty-five minutes and had yet to see any sign of Halise. Cullen was beginning to lose hope. According to Leliana, the mine should have let out not far from where they were. If there was any chance they would find here, now was the time.

Cullen raised his arm to shield his eyes as he squinted into the whitewashed distance where he thought he saw something. A faint green glow rose from a snow bank twenty yards ahead. He felt his breath catch in his throat and his stomach go cold. His arm dropped from in front of his eyes as he ran in the direction of the light. He could just make out the sound of Leliana and Cassandra behind him.

As he approached the glow he saw her. “It’s her!” he exclaimed to the two women following him.

“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra cried.

Cullen turned back to examine Halise before picking her up. He didn’t want to exacerbate any obvious broken bones. In the brief second of his examination, he saw that her face was halfway covered in snow, her lips a faint blue. Her hair was damp, the back covered in blood, and she had a large cut on her throat.

He gasped at her injuries, tears threatening to spill from his eyes with his rage at whatever had done this to her, and hastily unbuckled his large coat. He wrapped the coat around the top of her body, and secured it under her as he dug into the snow to lift her up.

He hoisted Halise out of the snow wrapped in his lion-maned jacket, and situated his left arm under her head, and his right under her knees. Before moving forward, he put his ear just above her mouth under her nose. She was breathing, barely. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips before the fear crept back up his spine.

Cullen broke into a run toward the camp in the valley, trusting that Leliana and Cassandra were following because he refused to turn around to check. He felt Halise’s left arm loll free as he ran, dangling limply and swinging back and forth in time with his feet. Her head bounced, lax against his chest.

The snow thinned and the air warmed slightly as they reached the camp. Soldiers jumped up with gasps and saluted as Cullen ran past them with Halise hanging from his arms. He tore through the camp toward the one of the healer’s tents they had set up on arrival. Anyone who even looked like they were in his way received a sharp “MOVE!”

When they got to the healer’s tent, the healer, Adan, came out, having heard all of the commotion Cullen had caused with his clamor through the camp. The bearded man motioned silently for Cullen to bring Halise into the little tent. “Set her down on the cot,” he said as he dug through a bag for what Cullen could only imagine were potions and poultices.

Cullen held onto Halise tightly as he said, “She has a large head wound, and a cut on her neck. I think something is wrong with her left arm. And she’s barely breathing.” He could feel his fingertips clutching her cold body.

“I understand, Commander, but you must put her down or I cannot help her!” Adan moved to take Halise from Cullen’s arms. He recoiled, then reconsidered, setting her down as gently as he could on the cot.

Adan set to work quickly as two more healers, women, came running into the tent, nimbly dodging Cullen. One of the women began to cut Halise’s coat and tunic off. The woman tore the cloth with a loud rip and exposed Halise’s left arm and ribcage, leaving only her breastband to cover her torso.

Cullen inhaled sharply as he saw Halise’s purple and red flesh. Her shoulder and wrist were swollen to a massive size, and her ribcage was mottled purple, red, green, and yellow. Blood had dried on her chest from her neck wound, and he couldn’t see any movement as the three healers bustled around her.

“Commander,” the woman who had not been cutting Halise’s clothing said, “you must leave this tent. We need room to help her, and you are too large to remain here.”

“But—”

“Ser! Respectfully, get out!” she snapped.

Cullen glared at her and sighed, realizing she was right. He turned and exited the tent, wringing his fingers as he walked. _Maker watch over her,_ he thought as he listened to the shouting and clattering exuding from within the tent.

*****

It had been more than a day since they had found Halise in the snow. She had yet to wake, though she stirred more and more as the hours passed.

Cullen had barely slept. He spent so much time pacing within eyeshot of the healer’s tent where Halise slept that he’d worn a path in the snow and dirt. On top of his worry for her, the Inquisition was now homeless. This led to several arguments between Cullen, Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra. No one knew where they should go, or if the Inquisition could survive this way.

It was nearing dawn as Cullen walked toward the healer’s tent once again. They posted a soldier outside on a rotating watch schedule to be sure that they would be notified if she woke. When she woke.

The soldier stood abruptly and clumsily as Cullen approached, giving a haphazard salute. Cullen gestured at him to be at ease, and said, “I’ll take over here, soldier. Go and get some rest.”

“Ser, a-are you certain?” the man stammered. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, and it is an honor to guard the Herald.”

Cullen sighed. “It’s alright. I mean it, go and get some rest. That’s an order.”

“Ser!” The soldier saluted once more, moving away from the wooden chair in front of the tent. He walked hastily toward the other end of the encampment were most of the soldiers were sleeping.

Cullen let himself drop heavily into the little chair, which creaked under his weight. He pinched the bridge of his nose and widened his finger and thumb across his eyelids. He was tired, but hadn’t been able to sleep for fear that he would miss being there when Halise woke. Adan had told him that she should survive, but did not know how long she would remain unconscious. She had lost a lot of blood, and had several broken ribs—five, to be exact—and her left arm was in rough shape after she had apparently jammed it back into place after it was dislocated.

Cullen was grateful Halise lived, but felt the weight of her injuries around his neck constantly. He should have been with her. He should have gone out in her place. The world needed someone like her so much more than it needed him. He never should have let her go.

He turned to point his ear toward the tent as he heard movement from inside. No other sound but the shuffling came, and he assumed that she had just shifted in her sleep. Then he heard her again. This time it was her voice. She cleared her throat and began to sing softly.

 

 _Little bird, have you got a key?_  
_Unlock the lock inside of me_  
_Where will you go?_  
_Keep yourself afloat_  
_Feeling old, until the wings unfolded_  
_Caught me a long wind_  
_Where will we go?_  
_Keep ourselves afloat_

Cullen was paralyzed for a moment before he leapt up from his chair and rushed into the tent, a look of shock plastered on his face. He could scarcely believe it. There she was, sitting up, looking at him with a small smile over her lips. The healers had wrapped her entire chest and stomach with bandages, and they wrapped over her left shoulder and down her arm. A dressing had been wrapped around her neck, a small spot of dried blood visible where she was cut. A blanket covered her legs and stomach up to her waist. Her hair hung loose over her bare shoulder and down her back.

She stopped singing when he came into the tent. “Hi, Cullen,” she said softly, her smile growing a bit as he walked toward her cot. “I’ve been awake for a little while now, but I heard you take over and figured I should let you know. That soldier might have passed out if he found out I woke up on his watch, and I like my spot on this bed too much to give it up to an unconscious man just yet.”

Cullen sat on the edge of her bed, completely captivated by Halise’s face. He must have looked from her forehead to her chin and from one cheek to the other a dozen times in that moment. He memorized her every feature. There was so much he wanted to say, but at the forefront was, “Please…don’t stop singing.”

The corners of Halise’s large green eyes crinkled slightly as her smile widened once more, her teeth now visible under her full lips. “As you wish, Commander,” she said lightly. She continued her song, and it sounded like a hymn to Cullen’s ears as her lilting voice rang out quietly in the small tent.

  
_I caught a long wind_  
_A long life wind_  
_I got to know the sky_  
_But it didn't know me_  
_Got to see the light_  
_And land on top of the sea_  
_And be the bird, be the key_  
_And now the current tells_  
_What the wave withheld_  
_And then the lightning say_  
_Oh where light will lay_  
_Where will you go?_  
_Keep yourself afloat_  
  
_I caught a long wind_  
_A long life wind_  
_Like a swallow_  
_A night owl_  
_A little chickadee_  
_Sad sparrow_  
_Good morning bird_  
_Oh whoa Good nightingale_  
_Hmm mmm I took a deep breath_  
_And caught a long wind_

 

Halise closed her eyes as she sang. Her brow creased and relaxed, and she shook her head lightly with the tune. Maker, she was beautiful. She smiled in the face of everything, and her resilience was a boon of relief to Cullen’s trepidation. He watched her in awe, lips parted as he stared.

When she finished the song, she looked down to where her hands had been folded neatly in her lap. Cullen followed her gaze and realized he had absently placed his hand over hers without thinking. His face flushed as he prepared to pull away, but before he could, Halise turned her hand over under his. She gently clasped her lithe fingers around his, her thumb stroking his knuckles tenderly. Cullen raised his eyes to meet hers. He felt a hum of energy where their skin touched. For a split second he thought he smelled ozone, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

She smiled at him again, tilting her head just a bit, then cringing when that apparently pulled at the wound on her neck. The pained look on Halise’s face jolted Cullen from his daze. He left his hand in hers, but slowly rose as he said, “I-I must inform the others that you’re awake. The Inquisition has been displaced and they will want your opinion what to do next.”

Halise’s smile dimmed, and she chewed on the inside of her lip. Her fingers slid away from Cullen’s hand as she let out a small sigh. “I suppose you’re right,” she said, running her fingers over her eyebrow. “But would you leave out the part where I’ve been awake for more than an hour already? I know Cassandra will be furious if she finds out I didn’t alert anyone. Please?”

“It’ll be our little secret,” Cullen replied with a smirk. That perked Halise’s face up once more. She let out a little gasp of a laugh, grimacing again and putting her hand gently against her ribs.

“Thank you,” she said.

Cullen turned and exited the tent, a too-big smile stretching his scar. He could have sworn he heard Halise say something after he left the tent, but he couldn’t make out what it was. She would be alright, and that was all that mattered to him in that moment.

 _Maker, thank you_.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics used in this chapter come from Feist's "Caught a Long Wind." I know, I know, more Feist...but this is the last Feist song for at least a bunch of chapters. Story's not totally written yet, so there may be another one in the distant future. Either way, if you haven't already checked it out, I highly suggest you do. It's a really beautiful song. As noted above, you can listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1Ywmjn_1FU).
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, so there's a little line from a song in here because, hey, I couldn't resist. Thing is, there's not great audio of the version of it that I had in mind when I was writing on YouTube because it's an album remake sort of thing. That being said, you can listen to the live version of [the full song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DMPCed3Fwm4).
> 
> If you want to start at the part in the story, click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DMPCed3Fwm4?t=2m11s).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!!

“Go?” Halise asked incredulously. “Go where?”

Solas sat across from her in the healer’s tent. She was healthy enough to go to a different tent now, but the camp was crowded, and there was no room for her elsewhere. She was alright where she was.

Solas’s face was as stoic as ever as he said, “North. There is a large fortress several days’ journey from here. It is known as Skyhold. It is large enough to hold the Inquisition and no one currently occupies it. It is a place the Inquisition can build and grow.” His hands rested on his knees as he spoke evenly.

“So, that begs the question, how did you find out about it?” Halise asked.

“As we have discussed, I frequently walk the Fade in my dreams, and I was informed by a friend about the fortress. A spirit of wisdom that enjoys learning about the world beyond the Fade—our world.”

“I do find your stories about the Fade fascinating,” Halise said sincerely, “but can we trust this spirit’s word with our entire retinue? There are a lot of people—humans, elves, and otherwise—that are counting on us to keep them safe.”

“I assure you,” Solas said as he placed a hand on Halise’s knee, “this spirit could not have any malicious intent. It was simply sharing information it knew I needed.”

Halise sighed and nodded. “Okay. I’ll send scouts with a raven to verify where it is first, and then we’ll pack everyone up and leave.”

“Excellent.” Solas so rarely smiled, but it became him not to look quite so severe.

Halise braced herself for the wave of change that was about to happen, yet again.

*****

Several weeks after Solas told Halise about Skyhold, she lead the Inquisition through the fortress’s gates. Solas’s spirit friend was right, the place was massive. It was in rough shape, but it was also sturdy and defensible. Halise spent the next few days exploring the rooms, hallways, battlements, basements, and garden, all the while hoping that Corypheus would fail if he attempted to attack them there. His words to her about the Old Gods' absence and the Fade buzzed and bounced around in her mind, tainting her admiration of the beautiful grounds.

Josephine had worked incredibly expediently to get workers to Skyhold to begin the renovations. It wasn’t long before everyone had a room or place to sleep. Halise got settled into a large room above the main hall. It had tremendous windows leading out to a balcony with a view over the deep snowy valley below. Josephine secured a big comfortable bed from the Free Marches for Halise, and a well-worked wooden desk where she could work on reports. She had a spacious bathroom with a copper tub she could lay all the way down in.

This was her first real, stationary home. She liked it.

Since they had arrived, she had also been made Inquisitor. Cassandra, Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine ambushed her with a large crowd one afternoon on the stone stairs in the courtyard to offer her the position. Halise had been touched, appreciative, and apprehensive about accepting the title, but she realized that she was helping to lead all along. She wasn’t afraid to make the choices that needed to be made, and though the instant power was unnerving, she could use it to shape Thedas—to help repair the land and its people.

Also, Cullen had made another rousing speech on Halise’s behalf, and she felt the same feeling as when he did it outside of Haven. He worked the crowd into a frenzy as she raised the Inquisitor’s sword. Tears beaded in her eyes, but she managed to hold them back and look steadfast.

Not long after Halise was made Inquisitor, Varric approached her and informed her that Hawke was about to arrive at Skyhold. He said Hawke, referred to as the Champion of Kirkwall as Halise had heard, had faced Corypheus before and wanted to help. He also had information that could lead to the whereabouts of the missing Wardens.

The day Hawke arrived, a messenger came up into Halise’s room to notify her, as had become the custom when she was in there and the door wasn’t locked. People began to cycle in and out of her room day and night to give her messages, reports, and food. She was grateful for the food.

After the messenger left, Halise made her way out onto the battlements where Hawke and Varric were waiting for her. She saw Hawke from a distance. He was tall, dark, and handsome—she began to understand the expression. His hair and beard were a rich deep brown, and his eyes were bright. He wore a bright red streak across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Each of his movements was deliberate, not unlike Cullen—most of the time.

The wind whipped across the stone as Halise approached them, and her flowing tunic shifted back and forth on her torso. She hadn’t had the foresight to tie her hair back, either, so it flew out to the side, several spiraled tendrils crossed her nose. She giggled at how she must have looked as she stepped up next to Varric for her introduction.

He chucked heartily. “Well, Torch, it’s good to see the title of ‘Inquisitor’ hasn’t gone to your head!”

Halise’s head flew back as she laughed, perhaps too hard. “Ha! I get it! ‘Cause my hair—”

She heard Hawke’s deep laughter roll forth from his chest. The sound of it and the smile on his face made her cheeks flush. She tugged down on her billowing tunic with her left hand as she held out her right to shake his hand. “You must be Hawke. I’m Halise.”

“The Inquisitor,” Hawke replied with a smile. “Varric has told me a lot about you.”

“I shudder to think,” she said as she glanced down at Varric.

“All good things, I assure you,” said Hawke.

“I’m going to leave you two to it.” Varric waved his hand as he walked toward the main hall. Halise swallowed thickly at being alone with the Champion.

Fortunately, their conversation flowed easily. They shared laughter along with information. Hawke told Halise that his Warden friend, Stroud, was waiting in a cave outside of Crestwood. He had told Hawke something vague about the Wardens having a strange collective experience, but refused to elaborate in his message. Hawke proposed that they all travel to Crestwood to meet Stroud to find out more. Halise agreed that it was a good idea, noting that they had received word of undead activity in the region as well. They decided that Hawke would ride on ahead to find the cave and send a raven with the location.

The two parted amicably, with another handshake. Halise figured since she was on the battlements she would stop by Cullen’s new office. He had taken up in a tower outside of the rotunda where Solas lurked.

As she opened the door to the tower, the wind gusted behind her, throwing her hair in her face and blowing her tunic up to her stomach. She squealed and laughed as she spun to shut the door behind her. She whirled to face Cullen’s desk and slammed her palms and back against the door, a massive smile plastered on her face.

Cullen stood staring at her with a dumbfounded expression, mouth agape, as she casually blew a curl off her nose. Halise closed her lips around her teeth and rested three fingers over her mouth as she tried to suppress another laugh. Cullen was surrounded by reports that had flown in every direction when the wind blew in. She stepped toward him. “Would you like some help with those?” she asked.

His eyes darted around him as he realized what she was referring to. “Oh—Maker, these went everywhere!”

“I’m really sorry, Cullen. The wind is incredible today! I didn’t think it would throw all your crucial reports everywhere if I came in, though.” The two of them crouched down around Cullen’s desk to pick up the scattered documents.

“No, it’s-it’s fine. You weren’t the first person today to do it.” He set down the last of the fallen papers on his desk and moved his hand to the back of his neck.

Halise chewed on the inside of her lip, feeling just a bit worse about it, as she said, “I’m sorry, I was just coming in to tell you that some of us will be riding to Crestwood in the next few days. Hawke said he has a Warden friend there who might be able to tell us where all the others went. I’m going to take Sera, Dorian, and Blackwall with me. But we’ll head to Val Royeaux for a day first. Sera has some Red Jenny ‘knifey shivdark’ thing to take care of.”

“That sounds…foreboding?” Cullen smirked. “Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” His tone sounded like he was trying not to say something, but Halise didn’t want to harass him into talking about whatever it was now. Not after she knocked over almost everything in his office.

“I suspect for a few weeks? I don’t know what we’ll find when we get to Crestwood, but we’ve been getting a lot of strange reports in the area, so I’m anxious to help.”

He suddenly became fascinated with the surface of his desk. Halise cocked her head sideways at him. He looked back up at her and she smiled. “Well, I know they will be grateful for your assistance,” he said, seeming to find his footing again. “I’ll send word around Skyhold to prepare for your departure and ensure there are troops to meet you in Crestwood upon your arrival.”

“Thank you,” Halise said. She threw her hand up in the air and bent her body into a whiplash of a bow, her head snapping back up with a wobble at the speed of her movement. She giggled again as she left Cullen’s office, more careful of the wind this time. “Be seeing you!” she called out behind her.

As she closed the door and stepped back out onto the battlements, Halise scrunched up her face and clapped her hand over her eyes. She whined quietly as she thought about what an unmitigated ass she’d just made of herself. It was like she had totally lost control. She wanted to have a real, substantive talk with Cullen, not literally blow into the room and simply announce her travel plans before being weird and running out again.

Fenedhis, she was really screwing this up.

*****

Crestwood was exactly as rainy and sad as Halise had been told it would be. She almost lost her boot in the mud several times just along the short road from camp to the village. The new dark green scout coat Harritt had been kind enough to make for her was soaked through almost immediately, and Halise felt damp down to her soul.

Once her cadre had arrived, they quickly learned the cause of the undead problem. A large rift had opened up under the lake, and demons were possessing the bodies of those who had died in the Fifth Blight after darkspawn had flooded the valley. The village, and its people, had taken a beating, and were struggling day to day. This was exactly why Halise became the Inquisitor: to help.

She, Sera, Dorian, and Blackwall handily defeated the bandits that had taken up residence in Caer Bronach where the flood controls were located. One of Leliana’s agents, Charter, an Elvhen spy, took up command of the keep once it was cleared. They drained the lake and made their way down to seal the rift.

Halise took note of the vast resources blooming in this gloomy place, stopping frequently to pick elfroot and embrium. She found herself humming and singing as she harvested because, even though everything was so bad, the flowers bloomed as brightly as ever. “ _Broken hearts make it rain, broken hearts make it rai~in,_ ” she sang.

“What is that depressing tune?” Dorian finally asked her, after she had sung it several times.

“Just a little Elvhen song the children in my clan would sing when it rained outside. We thought that the rain was a sign that Mythal’s heart was breaking as she cried down upon us. I know it sounds a bit silly, but it gave us something to think about every time it rained. What we might have done to hurt Mythal’s feelings so badly.” Halise grew pensive for a moment as she thought about that. Her past. What she had done.

“Well,” Dorian’s voice jerked her from her thoughts, “that is precisely as melancholy as it sounds! The perfect song for Crestwood! The townsfolk should petition the mayor to make it their new anthem.”

Halise pursed her lips and smiled at him as he rubbed mud deeper into the leather of his robe while trying to get it off. She kept thinking how it must chafe him in the rain.

Once Halise and her party closed the rift in a cavern under the valley, they had some cleaning up to do in the area before going to meet Hawke and his Warden friend. They marked some of the dead that had been left in the valley for funeral rights, helped out a couple of citizens, and discovered that the Mayor of Crestwood had intentionally drowned hundreds of people, then fled the area when his acts were discovered.

Halise bristled at having trusted the man even a little. She sent a raven to Leliana to have her agents locate and arrest him as quickly as possible. It ate at her it all the way to the cave.

On the bright side—literally—it had stopped raining. Though now Halise was damp and shivering, just with sunlight. When they found Hawke, he made a pitiful face at her and remarked about how uncomfortable everyone must be. They were, and they hadn’t shut up about it.

Stroud was almost as mysterious in person as he sounded in his messages, though Halise did admire his mustache. He told Halise that the Wardens had been hearing a false “Calling,” likely started by Corypheus, signaling to them that the blight was taking them and they must go to meet their deaths. He heard it too, and it beckoned him to the Western Approach. He did not know what was happening there, but seemed fairly certain that was where the Grey Wardens had all gone.

Halise was curious why Blackwall hadn’t mentioned this, and when asked he replied simply, “I don’t fear the Calling, and worrying about it only gives it power. Anything Corypheus does will only strengthen my resolve.” That felt like a non-answer, but Halise accepted it.

They all agreed that Stroud and Hawke would go on ahead to the Western approach to conduct a preliminary investigation, and that Halise and her people would return to Skyhold to prepare and await word.

As Halise and her group sat at their camp later that night getting ready for the trip back, a messenger arrived with letters for them. Sera and Dagna had begun to correspond, exchanging increasingly hilarious and outlandish drawings involving bees and explosions. Dorian and Iron Bull were playing a long distance chess match that they refused to continue in person, each claiming that it would “spoil the fun.” Blackwall had started getting mysterious, sweet-smelling missives from a woman, at least that’s what Halise assumed. Blackwall was very evasive about the whole thing.

Halise’s stack of letters was much less fun. Most of it was made up of troop and agent activity reports, her least favorite part about being Inquisitor: paperwork. Mixed up in all of the reports sat a different looking piece of parchment. Her name was firmly scrawled on the front, and it was sealed with the Inquisition sigil. She would recognize the handwriting as Cullen’s anywhere, but she wondered why he sealed this report.

Curiously, she set down the rest of the stack of papers and carefully popped open the seal, unfolding the parchment and beginning to read.

_Inquisitor Halise,_

_I feel as though every time I write to you (not reports) I have something for which I must apologize. I am very sorry for my strange behavior on our last meeting before you left for Crestwood. I was not feeling my best that day, and your sudden presence in my office threw me off guard._

_That is not to say I was thrown off in a bad way. It had just been the first good thing to happen all day, and I was having some difficulty processing my joy at your presence. I understand if I caused you to leave by making you uncomfortable, and for that I humbly beg your forgiveness._

_There has been something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and would appreciate some of your time to do so on your return to Skyhold, which I eagerly await. Things seem much dimmer without you here, and I am not referring to your mark._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Cullen_

Halise could feel herself grinning as Dorian and Sera began to needle her about what she had just read. She showed both of them, and despite her earlier lesson, asked their opinion as to what she should do next.

“You know the answer to that, my darling,” Dorian began. “You must be bold! Tell him the truth that lies in your heart or some such romantic nonsense.”

Sera interjected. “Well my view, since you asked for it,” she sneered and stuck her tongue out playfully at Dorian, “is that he’s been an absolute prat!”

“Sera!” Halise chided.

“What?” Sera replied incredulously. “He has! Now, that out of the way, it seems like the two of you need some talking done between you. I’ve seen that big fluffy weirdo standing outside his tower looking at you like you were made of cake. Like he wants to gobble you up, yeah? I know that look. So, take it or leave it, but I’m with Lord Magic Farts over here. Talk to him.”

Halise could feel the blood in her cheeks and the tips of her ears. “Well, I suppose if the two of you agree on something besides what alcohol to saturate yourselves with for the evening I should listen!”

“Damn right!” Sera said. “We get you, and we want you to be happy, and that can’t happen if you’re all, ‘Ooh, will he or won’t he, does he or doesn’t he, oh dear me’ about it.” Sera preened and flapped her hands about limply as she did her best-worst impersonation of Halise.

It made Halise laugh, though. “I know I don’t sound like that! I’ve never once said ‘dear me.’ But I suppose the two of you have a point. It’s settled then. I’ll be bold when we get back.” She sniffled a bit—probably because of all of the excitement welling up in the back of her throat.

 _Be bold,_ she thought. _Okay._

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics used in this chapter were taken from Radiohead's "A Moon Shaped Pool" version of "Identikit," which you can listen to live [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DMPCed3Fwm4). I've loved Radiohead since I was pretty young, and if you haven't given them a try, I highly suggest it! They haven't been making music for 31 years because people hate it, that for sure! ^_~
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another song!!! This was one of the ones that inspired me to write the story in the first place. A few scenes burst into my mind while I was on bed rest with the flu back in June and had to be written. Either way, you can find the song [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UCk2rkI1fA). 
> 
> Also...stuff happens in this chapter. Stuff.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

“Oh,” Cullen started as he looked up from his reports at the messenger standing in front of his desk. “What is it?”

The scout, a man he recognized simply as “Jim” spoke nervously, “Ser, you wanted to be notified when the Inquisitor and her companions returned. They were just spotted coming up the hill toward the entrance.”

“Ah—thank you,” Cullen replied absently. Jim stood there for a moment and scratched his chest. “You are dismissed,” Cullen growled.

“Uh-yes, Ser,” Jim said before giving a quick salute and running full speed out of Cullen’s office.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered to himself. Some of these recruits were completely clueless. He grabbed a stack of reports that needed Halise’s approval and nearly jogged down to the portcullis. It was dusk, and the sun had just dipped past the mountains. The guards on rotation began to light the lanterns, filling the courtyard with firelight that seemed to fight the fading sun for territory.

He arrived there just in time to meet Leliana and Josephine, and to see Halise ride through the front gates. She looked a bit rough around the edges, her boots and legs caked in dirt. As she got closer, she dismounted her buckskin mare, her usual smile glued to her face as she waved to everyone there to greet them.

Then she turned her gaze to Cullen, and he felt himself flush a bit as he stood up straighter. She twinkled her fingers in a little wave in his direction, which he tried to return with a smile of his own. Halise strode up to them, and upon closer inspection of her face, Cullen noticed some dark circles forming under her eyes. Unsurprising based on the reports he had received from Crestwood. The place sounded foul and miserable.

“Hello everyone,” she sighed, still grinning. “I’m going to forego our usual post-adventure meeting in favor of tomorrow morning, if that’s alright with all of you. I’m a little worn out and just want to head up to my quarters for the evening.” She sniffed and brushed the tip of her nose with her finger.

“That is no trouble, Inquisitor,” Josephine cooed. “I will be sure to have someone bring you up some food in a few moments.”

Relief seemed to wash over Halise’s smile at that. “Thank you so much, Josephine! You’re Mythal-sent, I swear. If any of you need to address anything pressing I’ll be up there. Also, please just call me Halise.” With that she trotted past them up the stairs into the main hall towards her quarters.

Cullen was a bit crestfallen. He had grabbed up the reports under the pretense that he could speak to her about having stopped taking lyrium. He supposed it was a pressing issue, however, given his increased recent headaches and overall terrible mood, and decided that he would go and speak to her after she’d had a chance to eat.

After sitting at his desk pretending to try to read reports for over an hour, Cullen deemed it the appropriate time to try and speak with Halise. He crossed the battlements, walked past Solas, who was on a scaffold painting some strange Elven mural, and headed for Halise’s quarters through the main hall.

Cullen opened the door to Halise’s quarters gently. He always tried not to cause a great disturbance when he went to see her there, knowing how much it bothered him when people would slam the doors to his tower. He could hear the faint sound of Halise singing as he ascended the stairs toward her room, which wasn’t unusual when she was working. This was a new melody he hadn’t heard from her before.

As he quietly crested the top of the stairs, her voice grew louder. He turned toward her desk, but she wasn’t sitting there working like he thought. His heart stopped. _Maker’s breath!_

Halise stood in front of her desk with her back to him. Her long wavy curls were damp as they hung loosely down her back, and it seemed she had only recently finished taking a bath. She wore what Cullen assumed was her nightshirt—a thin, billowy white tunic that extended just to the middle of her thighs and hung deeply off her right shoulder, exposing her pale, luminescent skin. Not only was she singing, but she was dancing, and Cullen was locked in place at the top of the stairs, stunned by her grace and beauty. Soundless.

 

_Oh, how I love to let you touch me slowly_

_Over and under your spell_

_Act like you own me, Sugar Daddy hold me_

_I’ll be your candy darling girl_

 

As Halise sang, her right foot was pointed behind her left ankle, and she swung her arms gracefully into the air above her head. When she dropped her right arm, her fingers undulated while she twisted her wrist toward and away from herself. Then she repeated the motion with her left arm.

 

_You have nothing to fear, why don’t you just lay here_

_Come on baby you know how_

_Sippin’ from the chalice, give you back your status_

_I will never tear you down_

 

Halise slid the slim fingers on her right hand as light as air from the side of her leg, around her hip, over her stomach, between her breasts, and wound them around her throat as if tracing a necklace over her skin, moving her hair to the side to expose the back of her neck. As they glided to the front of her throat, she slid her digits back down along the same path, only she stretched past her nightshirt, extending her leg and pointing her toe as she bent into a stretch. Her sylphlike calf flexed as her fingers rolled down to her foot, and her nightshirt rose achingly close to where Cullen wanted to be most at that moment.

 

_I can be your little torch_

_You’ll find the light_

_Scream my name and tell me more_

_The skies ignite_

 

She rose from her stretched position, dropping her nightshirt back to its previous position. But then she slowed into a crouched position, her knees swaying slowly from side to side as she lowered herself. As soon as she was crouched, she raised herself again, lifting her ass and arching her back as she stood. Cullen was starting to have trouble breathing.

He watched as Halise drew her leg out once more before she swung it widely around her side, dragging her body into a spin. Her eyes were open as she rotated, and when she turned to face Cullen, she let out a short scream and collapsed to the floor in shock. She landed on her backside, quickly drew her knees toward her body, and slammed her back against her desk as she sat on the ground panting.

“Fenedhis, Cullen!” she shouted. “You scared the shit out of me!” Her hand rested over her heart as she looked up at him, large eyes even larger—not angry, but definitely surprised.

Halise’s sudden fall and shouting stirred Cullen from his mesmerized state. He felt his blood rush to his face as he turned his head toward the ground, bringing his hand up in front of his eyes to shield her from his gaze. As if somehow that would make Halise believe he had not just seen her lithe form twisting so enticingly.

“I’m—I—Uh—Maker’s breath!” He rubbed the back of his neck to try and get his words flowing. “I’m truly sorry, Inquisitor! It’s just that you said you would be available if we had any pressing issues to speak with you about this evening.”

Her heard a short, quiet laugh emanate from her direction between her panting breaths. “And I left the door unlocked. Creators, Cullen, I’m the one who should be sorry! I forgot to lock the door before I bathed and got ready for bed. I felt so disgusting after Crestwood I couldn’t wait, and I fell asleep in the tub for twenty minutes. I’m sorry about that.” She sniffed again.

“Would you please take your hand away from your eyes and look at me?” Halise asked plaintively. Cullen had refused even a glance since she turned. “You’ve seen it already, and the world hasn’t ended yet. Also, stop calling me Inquisitor, it’s almost worse than Herald.” Her voice cracked a little with her last couple of words, she must have been very tired.

At her instruction, Cullen lowered his hand and looked at her. She smiled up at him from the floor as she dropped her hand from over her heart, brushing her fingers across her brow, her breathing beginning to slow. He could tell she wasn’t wearing her breastband because the little opening at the front of her nightshirt exposed the alabaster skin of her cleavage.

“I’m sorry, Halise,” Cullen said. “I tend towards the formal when I’m surprised. Force of habit after years of Templar training I suppose. I’m also sorry I didn’t announce myself when I came in.”

“But you don’t usually,” Halise replied. “It’s really okay, I promise.” She held up her pinky at him and hooked it a little. A short cough escaped her chest, likely the result of her rapid change in breathing.

“Still—That was an _interesting_ song. I have never heard it before.” Cullen was struggling to speak to her while she was sitting on the floor in front of him half naked. His mind refused to focus on words, skewing itself to thoughts of action.

Halise stood slowly, and perched herself against her desk, crossing her arms. “Ah…yeah. Sera’s Red Jenny business brought us into a…house of ill repute outside of Val Royeaux called Le Repos de l’Empereur.” She scratched at the base of her neck. “I stayed out in the tavern and watched the, uh, ‘entertainment’ while she did her sneaky meeting thing on the roof. It was all a little uncomfortable, but I liked the song. And it seemed funny because Varric calls me Torch. The dance…well that was mine. So there you have it: much more story than you could ever have wanted!”

The way she moved when she explained seemed to indicate that she was nervous. Cullen decided he should go and come back to speak to her at another time, but he wanted to try to reassure her first.

“I appreciate the detail, Halise. You know, I always prefer reading your reports over anyone else’s. They’re like well-written literature,” he said with a small smile. Then he rubbed the back of his neck again, having made himself more nervous by letting such an admission slip. “But, the matter I was going to speak to you about can wait until the morning. I understand that you must be exhausted after your journey and want to rest.”

“W-Wait!” Halise called to him as he turned to leave. He pivoted to face her once more, looking to her face to see she was staring at him while she chewed on the inside of her lip. She inhaled deeply and murmured something that sounded like “be bold.”

“I beg your pardon I didn’t hear—”

Cullen was interrupted by Halise’s quick movement. She dropped her arms to her sides, leaping up from the desk. He watched her as she took two long, deliberate strides toward him, and before Cullen even had a chance to realize she was standing inches from him, she’d wrapped her thin fingers around the back of his neck and pulled his face into hers.

Their lips collided in an explosive kiss. Cullen was frozen in shock for only a moment before he dropped his reports to the floor and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer to him. Their mouths pulsed against each other as Halise moaned into him when he squeezed her, wrapping her arms fully and tightly around his neck. She nipped at his bottom lip before darting her tongue out and dragging it across the same spot.

Cullen growled into their kiss as he opened his mouth to let Halise’s tongue slide in. Their tongues twisted together for a moment before she moved her lips from his. She dragged the tip of her tongue slowly up his scar, sending a shiver up Cullen’s spine. Then she returned, flicking her tongue up against his top lip as their kiss deepened once more. Cullen began to wish desperately that he hadn’t been wearing his armor—that he’d been able to feel her soft breasts pressed against him as she stood on her toes with her arms wrapped around him.

He could feel Halise tease the same slender fingers that only moments ago had traced the curves of her body up the back of his neck over his spine before she tangled all five into the hair on the back of his head. As her fingernails lightly scraped his skin and their tongues danced luridly back and forth between their lips, he needed more, and that need overcame him like a wave.

Cullen pulled his mouth from Halise as she let out a quiet whine in protest. His hand moved up to her jaw while they locked eyes, and he slid his middle finger from behind her right earlobe down past her chin. Halise closed her eyes and let out a ragged breath when Cullen lightly tipped her head back and to the side with the light push of his finger.

He latched his mouth to her throat, sucking, kissing, licking, biting. It was all he could do not to devour her. Cullen felt the muscles in Halise’s back expanding and contracting in his hands with her panting breaths. He inhaled her sweet scent as he felt the damp heat of her gasping on his ear. His breath was loud against her neck as he ran his tongue along the light scar on her throat she’d gotten at Haven.

Then Cullen worked his way up Halise’s pointed ear. He began with a light nibble on the lobe, and worked his lips up to the pointed tip. When he ran his tongue across the point of her ear she gasped and let out a whimper, so brief he almost missed it. This felt good for her, and all he wanted in that moment was to make her feel good. So he did it again.

Halise gasped once more, but her breath hitched in her throat and she began to cough. She curled herself over Cullen’s fur collar at first, but her coughing persisted. Worry flashed over Cullen’s face as he pulled himself away from her, leaving his hand resting on the small of her back as she hunched over. Halise brought her hand to her mouth, then let it rest on her chest as the fit subsided. She took several deep breaths before straightening and sending an apologetic glance to Cullen.

“Creators, I’m sorry about that,” she said sheepishly. “I must be even more tired than I thought. But I’m not sorry about what happened before that.” Her fluorescent eyes stared into Cullen’s with fire behind them.

He longed to pull her back to him once more, but his concern for her overwhelmed him. “I’m not sorry about that either,” he replied, his voice low. “But I would rather continue our ‘discussion’ after you’ve had the chance to rest. I wouldn’t want your state to worsen on my account.”

Cullen lifted his hand to Halise’s chin once more. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers lightly. She shuddered in response. He bent down to pick up his reports and made his way down the stairs as Halise watched him from the top step.

“Goodnight, Cullen,” she said softly, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Halise,” he replied as he exited her room. His eyes widened once he closed her door. That had all just happened. He had a lot to process before the meeting in the morning, so he headed back to his tower to pretend to try and sleep.

*****

“Where is Halise?” Josephine asked as she flipped through the papers on her board. She, Leliana, and Cullen had been waiting in the war room for more than an hour for Halise to come down.

“It is unlike her to be so tardy,” Leliana remarked. “Perhaps we should send someone up to check on her.”

Cullen tried to restrain himself before answering. He did not want to appear too eager or draw attention to what happened the previous night. It could easily have been a fluke, spurred by exhaustion and a lurid dance that was meant to go unseen.

“I’ll go,” Cullen finally said, trying to sound somewhere between nonchalant and almost put out.

Despite his efforts, Leliana smirked at him from under her hood. “Ever the eager soldier, aren’t we Commander? But yes, why don’t you go check.” She uncrossed her right arm just enough to wave him out of the room.

He turned from them, exiting the war room first, then Josephine’s office. Halise’s room was only steps from the office door, so it was just seconds before he stood with his fist balled to knock. Cullen remembered then what Halise said about not needing to announce himself, and he gripped the doorknob instead.

But it didn’t turn. It was locked. Halise only locked the door when she bathed or slept, and it was unlocked when he left the previous night. The day had passed far beyond the time she normally woke up, and Cullen tried not to let fear creep into him as he brought his fist to the door in a loud series of knocks.

He turned his head so he could hear any noises coming from the other side in response. At first, he heard nothing. Then the thick sound of coughing began. It grew louder for a moment, but stopped abruptly with a loud thud. Cullen’s panic ripped through him as he tried the door handle once more, hoping he could force it.

“Halise!” he shouted through the closed door. No answer. “Halise!” Once more, louder—still nothing.

Cullen began to ram his shoulder into the wood of the locked door. He only had to do it three times before the door gave way by splintering down the center and he ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he neared the top, he could see Halise’s body emerging past the landing. She was lying on her side on the floor, hair strewn over her face and hands flat on the ground.

“Halise!” Cullen said with the only air left in his lungs after running up the stairs. He quickly crouched at her side.

“Agh,” she croaked as she rolled her torso to face him, weakly brushing her hair off her face. Her voice was deep and raspy—hoarse. Maker’s breath, she was sick. “I fell.” She coughed again.

“Here.” Cullen scooped his arms under her, much as he had done when he lifted her from the snow outside of Haven. This time, however, she was at least semi-conscious.

Halise wrapped her arms around Cullen’s neck as he lifted her from the floor to carry her to her bed. She groaned a little in his ear when she settled against his chest, flopping her head on the edge of the fur on his collar. She smiled lightly and he could feel her squeezing handfuls of the fur around the back of his neck.

“So soft and fluffy,” she rasped with the languid tone of someone not all together awake. She nuzzled her nose into his neck and heaved a contented sigh from her lips.

Cullen set her down on the bed gently, as close as he could to where the wrinkled sheets she had slept in remained. He couldn’t help but notice that the other side of the bed was neat and untouched.

“I’m going to go down and let Leliana and Josephine know what’s going on,” he said. “I’ll make sure everyone lets you sleep.”

He began to step away from Halise to go do just that when he felt her steely fingers lace around his wrist. “No,” she replied, sounding a bit more coherent that she had only a moment before. She sat up a bit, Cullen’s wrist still wrapped up in her hand.

“I need you to help me with something first,” she continued. “I thought I might get sick from the gross weather and exhaustion in Crestwood. It was awful there before the sun came out.” She coughed heavily several times, then cleared her throat to resume speaking.

“When I came back, I threw together a quick poultice from some of the embrium I managed to harvest there, just in case. It helps with breathing, which I am obviously having some difficulty with today.” Halise let out a small breath of a laugh then. “But it has to be applied to my back, and I can’t reach. So I need to you get it out of the top drawer of my desk and help me put it on. And also to hand me the curved metal pin on top of my desk. Please?” She feebly raised her pleading gaze to meet his. She was still muddling through her grogginess, but sounded lucid enough.

“O-Of course,” Cullen stammered. Halise released his wrist and he made his way to her desk. He could hear her rustling in the sheets as he walked across the room.

When Cullen opened the top drawer of her desk to look for the poultice, he found it quickly. He picked it up and was about to shut the drawer when he saw his handwriting. There were two letters with Halise’s name in his writing. He recognized the one he had sent her while she was in Crestwood, but the other was damaged. It had singe marks on one edge and what looked to be blood soaked into a bit in the middle. Suddenly it dawned on him. That was the letter he had written to her in Haven. She had gone back for it in the midst of all of that chaos. Saved it. _Maker’s breath_.

He snatched up the metal pin and tried not to let his emotions taint his expression as he turned back toward Halise. He didn’t want her to think that he was going through her private things.

As Cullen glanced back up at Halise while walking toward her, he felt heat race up his face. She was sitting up in the bed with her shoulders completely bare, covering her chest with a blanket being held up by one hand. Her chin rested wearily on the fist holding up the blanket. Cullen could see her nightshirt lying on the floor halfway across the room.

Halise coughed again before saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about the shirt.” She could clearly see the shock on his face. “I didn’t want you to say no. But the stuff obviously wouldn’t help me breathe much with the shirt on, so here we are.”

“It’s fine,” Cullen responded, more curtly than he would have liked. Halise simply smirked at him, her eyes lidded. She patted the spot behind her on the wrinkled part of the bed, motioning for Cullen to take a seat there.

He complied, tentatively sitting staring at her naked back. Her fiery locks still rested against the small of her back. Halise turned to speak to him, settling her chin on her shoulder as she spoke. “Can I have the pin please?” Cullen passed it over her shoulder to her waiting hand.

“Now,” she continued hoarsely, “I have to use both my hands for this—just for a moment. But you can choose to look or not look. There won’t be much change from where you’re sitting, but just don’t freak out. I need your hands at least a little steady.”

“I don’t know how steady they will be even if I don’t look,” Cullen replied dryly.

Halise laughed once and coughed twice. “Okay,” she said. Cullen decided to watch as she deftly swept up her hair in one hand and twisted it loosely, the blanket she was holding falling from in front of her. As she held up her hair, Cullen noticed she had a tattoo on her back. It matched the one on her forehead in style and dark green color, but stretched from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, dipping down to a small point just above where her breastband would sit.

As she used the single pin to secure the knot she twisted to the back of her head, Halise’s shoulder blades moved and flexed, shifting the tattoo. Cullen asked absently, “What do your tattoos mean?” He hadn’t even considered whether the question was appropriate.

“Hmm,” Halise grunted slightly, “I guess I hadn’t really talked about them. They’re called ‘vallaslin.’ It means ‘blood writing.’ Every Dalish elf is supposed to get them when we come of age to remind us that we serve ourselves and the Creators, and that we will never again submit. I don’t know how many Dalish you’ve met, but there are different designs. The design is mean to represent the spirit of the Creator that most matches your own.”

As Halise spoke, Cullen removed his gloves and began to rub the poultice onto her back, touching her skin very softly. It was flowery smelling and tinged with orange from the embrium, and as Cullen moved his hand over Halise’s back, she rested her chin on her fist once more, exposing the long line of her delicate neck.

“My vallaslin represent my connection to Ghilan'nain, the mother of the halla,” Halise continued. “She is actually said to have created many creatures, though the halla is one of the few remaining. She cursed a hunter for killing a hawk, so he blinded her and left her for dead. Adruil saved her, and bound her to her creation to allow her to live on. I suppose that spirit is supposed to live on in me, but it is more than a little unsettling to be bound to someone who was blinded and turned into a beast.”

Halise’s sentiment resonated deeply within Cullen. “I understand how you feel,” he said quietly, rubbing her back. “Being bound to the Order for so long was like that. It started out as a beautiful story of saving people and helping them. Eventually, though, it twisted. The Order became blind to the monstrosities it was allowing and perpetuating in the Circles. Even I found myself blinded and angry, lashing out at mages and anyone who wanted to change their circumstances. A blind beast.”

Halise’s head did not move as she spoke again. “I had a sister, you know.”

Cullen’s hand stopped over Halise’s vallaslin. “I didn’t,” he replied softly.

She curled her knees to her chest under the deep cobalt blanket, arching her back closer to Cullen. He continued his soothing application as she explained. “I’m 28 now, but I was 27 when it happened. She was 17. Her name was Eirlan. It’s funny, my name means ‘fire fox’ and hers meant ‘snow child,’ but we were never that different. Our parents and the others in our clan raised us to be kind but fierce, but she was mostly just kind. She was a mage.”

Cullen took a shaky breath as Halise told her story. He had a pit in his stomach that told him where this was going.

“When the shem mage rebellion at the Circles heated up, our clan wasn’t far outside of Ostwick in the Free Marches. Eirlan and I used to like to creep out to the edge of the woods and look at the cities. We would talk about what we thought it was like to live in a building that never moved, and how we suspected shems lived. At the time, we didn’t know anything strange was going on in the Circles. Why should we? But Circle mages had already started escaping.

“We were too close to the edge of the forest, but I wanted to see the people in the city. We noticed there were a couple of men in armor walking along the road into the woods—Templars. I guess they were hunting a mage who had run off, or they were just looking for trouble. We were in a tree, but Eirlan leaned forward and grabbed a branch that was too weak. It snapped and she fell on the ground in front of the Templars.

“They saw the staff on her back. She was only 17, so she hadn’t gotten her vallaslin yet. They confused her for a city elf and started grabbing at her, yelling about her being an apostate. I came down to help her but one of them wrenched my arm behind my back and put a dagger at my throat. Naturally, Eirlan started to get upset, and she pulled out her staff to cast a barrier around me—she was a healer, because of course she was. The other Templar took that as a sign of aggression, and he just rammed his sword through her chest without a word.”

Halise brought her marked hand up to the scar between her jaw and ear. “That’s when I got this. I struggled with the Templar holding me and he tried to cut my throat. But his dagger was too high, and I managed to stuff an arrow in his neck with my bare hands after I got loose. The one that killed my sister came for me next, and I plugged an arrow into the eye slit in his helmet. But I lost my sister…she was gone.”

She sniffed and moved the back of her hand across her eyes. “That’s how I wound up at the Conclave. I begged my Keeper to let me go. I don’t know what I thought I could do there. But I wasn’t any angrier at the Templars than I was the mages. Everyone caused it as far as I was concerned. My little sister was a casualty of war, so I needed to do everything in my power to stop the war from continuing. Unfortunately, when the Conclave started, I didn’t have any power. And unfortunately, after the Conclave exploded, I did.”

Cullen had finished applying the poultice some time ago, but his hand still moved in small circles on Halise’s back. “I’m so sorry, Halise. I am so sorry.” His voice was almost a whisper.

Halise turned her head to him over her shoulder again. “Will you stay with me for a little while?” She wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were cast down as she asked.

“If you would like me to, yes.” Cullen’s heart raced I his chest as it ached for her in every way he could imagine—even some ways he could not.

“Yes,” Halise replied quietly. “You can set your armor on the second stand by my desk. Then come back to me. Please.” Her voice was almost a whisper, but it was more firm than it had been.

As Cullen carried out Halise’s request, removing his armor piece by piece, he was stricken. He knew the war had reached far beyond the Circles, but he hadn’t realized just how many it affected nor how deeply it affected them. Halise was an incredibly strong and kind woman, and he could only imagine that her sister would have been the same. His gut flipped as he considered what would have happened if Halise had been killed, but he quickly shook the thought from his head.

Once he was down to just his white tunic and breeches, Cullen returned to Halise’s bed. She was laying on her side with the blanket pulled up in front of her to her chin to avoid smearing the poultice, but he took a moment to admire the curve of her back and the small dimples on her hips before he crawled onto the other side of the bed to face her.

Halise waited for Cullen to adjust himself on the bed before she pulled herself to lay against him. She was tall, so her face nestled comfortably near his shoulder as she breathed into him. “Thank you,” she whispered into his shirt. Cullen responded by tenderly stroking her hair and placing a gentle kiss on her vallaslin.

She coughed once more before falling asleep in his arms.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof! Long chapter! But hopefully worth it. ^_~
> 
> The lyrics used in this chapter are taken from LP and Isa Machine's song, "Torch." LP is awesome on her own, and Isa Machine is the Machine in Florence and the Machine, so...y'know.... If you haven't listened to either of them before, give them a listen! You can hear the collaboration used in this chapter [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UCk2rkI1fA).
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get a little NSFW in here!

“Oh,” Halise croaked quietly as she woke up. Her face was nuzzled up under Cullen’s chin. He was still asleep, breathing deeply. Every time he exhaled, his breath tickled Halise’s ears, sending a little chill down her spine.

She had apparently brought herself closer to him in her sleep, or vice versa. When she took a deep breath, she realized the blanket that was pulled up in front of her had fallen away with their movement, and her bare breasts were pressed against the side of Cullen’s chest. His arm was hanging over her waist, hand clutching the small of her back in his sleep.

Without moving enough to wake Cullen, Halise looked in the direction of her window. It was night outside. Her eyes widened as she wondered just how long they had slept. Cullen came to her only a few hours after dawn. Had they really been passed out in here like this for that long?

She decided to see if her poultice had worked at all, and took a deep diagnostic breath. Her throat still hurt, but her cough had subsided. The pros and cons of just going back to sleep as opposed to getting up and putting on a shirt began running through Halise’s mind. _Well he’s already seen most of me, and he might anyway if I move. I’m cozy here. Is this inappropriate? He is so warm. What if someone comes in? Whatever, it’s my life! But it’s his life too. What will he think when he wakes up? What will I think when I wake up?_

Halise began to feel a bit unstable with these rapidly shifting thoughts blowing through her head. Ultimately, she decided to act like she had never woken up—didn’t know what happened. That was what _she_ wanted to do. Damn the consequences. _Be bold, right?_

So Halise shut her eyes again, letting herself drift slowly back to sleep, the sound and sensation of Cullen’s deep breathing a tender lullaby.

*****

Halise awoke again several hours later in the same position. She glanced to her window and saw dawn creeping up. It was about the time she normally woke for the day.

Just as she turned her head up to look at his face, Cullen grimaced and clamped his hand down on her waist roughly. He pulled her tightly against him, so tightly she was having some trouble breathing. Small moans and whimpers began to escape his lips.

“No,” he murmured. “Leave me. Leave me!” At that moment he startled awake with a gasp, eyes darting about the room in a panic.

Halise could feel the worry creasing her brow as she brought her hand up to his cheek. “Hey,” she rasped. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.” He looked down at her face and sighed with relief, wrapping both of his strong arms around her back carefully and letting his head flop back against his pillow.

“What happened?” she asked, concern tinging what was left of her voice. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I get them more than I would like to acknowledge.” Halise pushed her face into his neck and laced her fingers into his hair to massage his head lightly. His ordinarily meticulously groomed hair had gone wild and curly in his sleep, falling over his forehead in a way that made Halise’s heart skip a beat. Creators, this man was handsome.

Cullen looked down at her again. It seemed that was the first time he noticed her state of undress, and the fact that the bare parts of her body were pressed against him with only his tunic and breeches, her smallclothes, and a fraction of a blanket between them. He shuddered out a breath. Halise could feel his heartbeat racing on the side of his neck as she watched his throat move with a rough swallow. She could feel her own pulse thrumming through her while she anxiously waited to find out what he would do next.

“A-Are you feeling better?” he asked. Clearly very nervous, Cullen averted his eyes in every direction, almost all at once.

His tense and possibly chivalrous reaction to Halise’s nakedness brought a wide, open-mouthed grin to her face. Nearly giddy at Cullen’s behavior, she maintained her position looking up at him, still as an untouched lake. She thought it might be a little fun to do what he was doing and ignore their precarious placement against each other for a few minutes, even though one sneeze or rogue itch would expose her.

“I’m feeling much better,” Halise said, trying not to convey her amusement. “As I’m sure you can hear, my throat is still scratchy, but my cough and the sniffles are gone. And how are you this morning, Cullen?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” Cullen’s response was terse, which only served to further Halise’s mirth.

“Did you sleep well? It seems we were out for quite a long time!” She was exaggerating her tone now, as much as could be expected when her voice still sounded like she had gargled with broken glass.

“Until the nightmare, yes, I slept quite well.”

She started to feel a little bad about how edgy he was at all this. “Cullen,” she said soothingly, “look at my face.” Using the hand she still had woven in is hair, she pointed his head toward her face only inches away. Seeing that he was doing his best impression of a dour dwarven statue, Halise pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh.

“Cullen,” she said his name again to sound reassuring, “would you like me to put a shirt on?”

His honeyed eyes locked with hers, searching for a moment before he responded, “I—I don’t know.”

At that, Halise had to laugh. Her head shot down into the crook of Cullen’s neck as she giggled against his skin, trying her best not to hurt his feelings. She made sure her body was still pressed tightly against him while she shuddered in her merriment. When most of the laughter had finished rippling through her, she looked up at his face once again. He was still stone serious, which only caused Halise’s laughter to bubble again. She managed to lock it away this time in favor of talking to him more about his strange answer.

“You don’t know if you want me to put a shirt on?”

“I really don’t,” he replied, confusion and certainty in his voice all at once.

“Okay.” Halise paused for a moment, not for dramatic effect but because she was genuinely unsure how she should respond to him. “What _would_ you like me to do?”

“You can’t ask me that,” Cullen said plainly.

“Okay.” Another pause. She was getting a bit confounded herself. “What would _you_ like to do?”

“You can’t ask me that either.”

“Oh, Mythal’s mercy, Cullen! I can ask you that, and I have! So you tell me, what do you want to do?” Halise’s words bore signs of her growing irritation at his evasiveness.

Something flashed in Cullen’s eyes, and though none of the rest of his features changed, there was new heat behind his expression. Halise’s chest tightened and she felt her arms and legs tense. Her breathing became shallow, coming through her mouth instead of her nose.

“You can’t ask me what I want to do,” he began, “because if I answer you honestly, I’ll be forced to tell you all of the unholy things I want to do to you. I’ll have to tell you that I don’t want you to put a shirt on, and I want you to take everything else off, or to let me take it off you. I’ll have to explain that I want to see and touch every inch of you. That I want to hear you make _those_ sounds again. That I want to taste you more than I want to taste air. But I’m the Commander of your forces and I can’t say things like that. So you can’t ask me things like that.”

“Maker’s breath,” Halise whispered.

In an instant, Cullen’s mouth was on hers, lips caressing with a feverish intensity. The two of them breathed rapidly and heavily against one another. Cullen licked into Halise’s already parted lips, intensifying her reverence and desire for him as their tongues twined together. As he kissed her, he fisted his hand in her twisted up hair to angle her head and allow him to deepen their kiss further.

Cullen’s arms were wrapped around Halise, one hand on her back holding her firmly against him. One of her hands was situated in his unruly hair, the other rested on his muscular chest.

He rotated his body to be face to face with her, then used his momentum to position himself over her as they kissed. The hand she had on his chest slid around to his back as their limbs tangled together. Cullen’s hardness pushed against his breeches between them, and his thigh rested between Hailse’s legs, pressing down on her beneath her smallclothes and causing her to emit a hoarse groan. The sound seemed to invigorate Cullen, and he pressed his body down on her more firmly. She writhed under him, clawing at his back and scalp, and let out another moan against his mouth.

She felt Cullen’s chest rumble above her as he pulled his lips from hers. They locked eyes, panting and hungry, before he turned his attention to her throat and ears. His breath again spread hot across Halise’s skin as he hungrily took her flesh between his lips and teeth, smoothing his tongue over bite marks and bruises to ease them. His stubble softly scraped her skin, sending tiny tingles through her. She could still feel his thigh pressing into her sensitivity as he turned his attention to her ear.

While he nibbled on her earlobe, Halise took the opportunity to suck his into her mouth as well. Cullen growled at the contact, the sound so close to her ear it sent a shiver down her spine. She continued to lick and tug at it until Cullen dragged himself back down to her neck, then lower.

Cullen sat up for a moment as he took his first opportunity to look at her breasts, letting out a small sigh when he saw them. Then he looked back up to her eyes. “Maker, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he said, his pupils so dilated with desire and darkness that his eyes were nearly black.

Before Halise had the chance to respond, his mouth was on her once more. He kissed the pale skin between her breasts before palming one, his calloused warrior’s hand causing a pleasurable friction that tore Halise’s composure once again, rending a whimper from her throat. Cullen glanced back up to her face at the sound, then turned his attention to her other breast, drawing her dusky pink nipple into his mouth.

That ripped a louder groan from Halise. She arched into his mouth and hand, throwing her head back while he teased her flesh with his mouth, pinching and soothing her other pearled nipple with his fingers. Serrated breaths sawed in and out of her, her fingers clutching Cullen’s shoulder and hair. She felt her little lightning hum between them for a split second, and was surprised when he didn’t notice. He slid the hand not clasped around her breast up her side and onto her throat, gently encircling it in his fingers and squeezing. The new pressure caused Halise to open her mouth wider as she panted against the delectation she felt growing within her.

“Inquisitor,” a small female voice called up the stairs.

Cullen and Halise both froze where they were. She still trembled beneath him as they waited to see if the voice would call up again.

“Inquisitor?”

“Yes?” Halise shouted back hoarsely. She and Cullen had already begun to scramble apart as quietly as they could manage. He snatched her night shirt from the floor across the room and tossed it over to her.

“Sister Leliana sent me to fetch you for a meeting in the war room. She also asked me to tell you to let the Commander know about the meeting. When I offered to do it, she told me it wouldn’t be necessary. But I apologize for the burden,” the messenger said, still shouting up the stairs.

Halise threw her nightshirt on over her head and called back down, “Oh, it isn’t any trouble! Thank you very much for coming to get me. Please let Leliana know I’ll tell Commander Cullen and we shall be in shortly!”

“Yes, Inquisitor.”

Hurried footsteps faded into the distance, causing Halise to clutch at her chest and drop her head as she sat up in the bed. Her heart was racing, stomach still recovering from the cold blast that shot through it on hearing the messenger’s small voice. She cast her stunned gaze up to Cullen, who stood near his armor on the stand with his forearms resting on his thighs as he hunched over to gasp for air.

“What the fuck?” she squeaked. “Why didn’t she knock before she opened the door?”

Cullen’s head flew up, his eyes darting around for a moment before he looked at her. “I—Uh—I had to break down your door to get to you yesterday,” he replied tentatively.

Halise felt her eyes widen as a strange smirk crept up her lips. “You what?”

“I heard you coughing after I knocked on your door, and then I heard you fall. I couldn’t tell if you had fallen down the stairs or hit something. And the door was locked. So I, um, broke it down to get to you.” Cullen grew more sheepish the more he explained.

Before she could stop it, Halise’s mouth flew open with laughter. She held her hand against her stomach as she fell back against her pillow. When her tittering subsided, she turned her head back toward Cullen.

“My hero,” she said, rising from the bed. She slid her legs over the side and stood, then walked over to Cullen. “Thank you for rescuing me,” she murmured as she reached him, weaving her arms around the back of his neck. He leaned down into her and they shared a soft kiss.

“It was no trouble, really,” he replied quietly, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

As they separated to dress, and Halise slid her breeches on, she turned toward him and pointed. “First order of business at today’s meeting: new door for the Inquisitor.”

Cullen chuckled while tightening his bracers. Halise pulled her favorite azure tunic on, contentment settling into her chest at the domesticity with which they dressed so near one another. She could get used to this.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **squee**
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	23. Chapter 23

“Commander.” Leliana greeted Cullen with a nod as he stepped into the war room, having waited a full ten minutes after Halise exited her quarters to leave. Leliana had a look on her face that made him uneasy.

“Spymaster,” he replied. “Ambassador,” he said as he nodded to Josephine. He tried to glance at Halise as he walked past her without blushing or giving himself away. “Inquisitor,” he said softly.

Halise looked at him for the briefest of moments, her mouth twitched with what Cullen surmised was her attempt to suppress her usual wide grin. Her eyes gave her away, brightly smiling at him when she refused to allow her mouth to show it.

“Ahem,” Josephine cleared her throat. Apparently, their brief glance had gone on a bit longer than either of them realized. “We have been investigating what you saw in that dark future about Empress Celine’s assassination. Leliana’s agents have, in fact, uncovered such a plot being set in motion. Their reports say that the assassination is meant to take place during the peace talks being held under the guise of a grand ball in just over a month.”

“We have secured invitations to these talks,” Leliana interrupted. “We must be in attendance to stop this assassination.”

Halise’s face had returned to complete seriousness as she listened to the women speaking. “Have we tried sending word to Celene to let her know what’s going on?”

“We have tried numerous times to get word to her,” Josephine replied. “Unfortunately, all of our messages have been…intercepted. The necessity for our attendance at the peace talks has become plainly evident in the wake of our attempts to make contact.”

“Alright then,” Halise replied, pressing her knuckles to her lips thoughtfully, “to the grand ball peace talks we go.”

Cullen’s heart dropped. He hated Orlesian politics. “The Game,” they called it. Interludes and intrigues. Utter nonsense. It was just an excuse to backstab—literally and figuratively—for minor gains in power. He had no stomach for it.

Josephine’s face, however, lit up as Halise said that. Of course. She loved politics, and she was good at The Game. She had been playing since she was very young, giving her every reason to love it. “Excellent! I shall begin preparations at once. I promise you, Halise, that I will be contacting only the most renowned designers and tailors for your dress!”

Glee illuminated Halise’s face. “I-I get to wear a dress?” she squeaked. “Like a big sparkly one with a long skirt?” She was beaming. Her response warmed Cullen’s heart almost enough to make going to this dreadful event worth it. Almost.

“But of course!” Josephine’s tone was incredulous, as though Halise should never have expected otherwise. “Our leader must be the pinnacle of style and beauty—a jewel among those in attendance!” She lifted her feather pen into the air and gazed upward triumphantly as she spoke. She was far too excited about this.

“Fortunately, nature has taken care of supplying your beauty.” Cullen flushed. The words fell out of his mouth before he knew he was thinking them. He shot his eyes directly to the stone floor, heaving a ragged sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I-I only meant—”

“I’m certain we all know what you meant.” Leliana was staring at the side of his head, daring him to meet her gaze. Her tone was so suggestive. He didn’t have to look up to know she was grinning.

“Thank you, Cullen,” Halise’s voice chimed, a music box in the darkness despite still being a bit hoarse from her illness. “I’m grateful for the gracious compliment.”

He dared to look up at her, his head still cast downward. She smiled at him widely and genuinely. Cullen was beginning to understand why Varric called her Torch. She could light even the Void with her smile and the joy in her eyes. Maker, she was glorious to behold. He hadn’t doubted the sincerity of his words, only the company in whose presence he had uttered them.

“Well,” Leliana began, “now that we all have a clearer understanding of the Commander’s opinion of the Inquisitor’s…features, we have other business that has come up. My agents have sent word of Venatori activity in the Western Approach, which is odd, to say the least. There is very little in the area beyond dirt and ruins.”

Halise was right back to business. “That’s where Stroud told us he heard the Wardens were going, as well. It sounds like we can’t wait for him and Hawke to send word. I need to go out there and find out what’s going on. This can’t be a coincidence. We’ll set off the day after tomorrow.”

“There is one more matter before we adjourn.” The spymaster held up her hand for a moment. “It seems an Avvar clan who was grateful for something you did—I’m still not entirely clear what—sent you a gift. In short, it’s a battle nug. A fine specimen, if I may say so. They asked if you would be so kind as to accept it for your mount.”

Awe overtook Halise, forcing a small smile to Cullen’s lips. “I have a _battle nug_?! A real one?!” She squealed. “Ah, this day just keeps getting better! If you’ll all excuse me, I have to go meet my _battle nug_. Because I have a battle nug.”

Halise giggled elatedly as she very nearly skipped out of the war room. Cullen felt a short chuckle leave his chest.

“And you, Commander, we must have a word now.” The timbre in Leliana’s voice made him feel like a child about to be scolded. He had flashbacks of his father rapping his behind with a switch after he had run off to the nearest Templar camp for more than a day when he was eight.

He cleared his throat, attempting to push the thought from his mind as he turned to face her. “Oh? What about?”

“I’ll leave you two to this discussion. I have much work to do,” Josephine said tentatively as she sped out of the room.

The second the door closed, Leliana was poking her finger into Cullen’s breastplate. “What in the Maker’s name do you think you are playing at with the Inquisitor?!” she hissed. “Surely you noticed the tapestry hanging in the doorway to her quarters this morning, yes? After you left to ‘check on her’ yesterday, we waited another forty-five minutes before I came to look for both of you. Imagine my shock when I step out to see that the door to her quarters has been _shattered_. Then when I run up the stairs to see if I can find any evidence that could lead to her kidnappers, and possibly yours, I find the two of you asleep in her bed, and her wearing next to nothing curled up against you!”

“She was sick, and I—” Cullen started.

“I don’t want to hear it. I can tell she was sick—she still sounds sick—and I’m certain she asked you to help her and then to stay with her. Given how long the two of you slept and her state when she returned from Crestwood, that was not hard to deduce. Frankly, I have no care for what _you_ do with your time. But she is the Inquisitor! She cannot afford to be distracted or hurt by a dalliance with someone she has to see every day!”

That made Cullen angry. For Leliana to assume that what they had was anything less than sincere was more than he could tolerate. To think that little of Halise, let alone him. “Dalliance?” he spat, the ire rising within him. “I would never engage in a _dalliance_ with the Inquisitor—whose name, incidentally, is Halise! She hates it when people call her Inquisitor. She…approached me, and I fully reciprocate her feelings.”

“I don’t care who approached whom in this. She is our only means of closing the rifts that remain all around Thedas. Our only hope of uniting the world against Corypheus! If this is some passing fling—if your feelings for her are disingenuous or fleeting—end it. Now.” She was closer to his face than he was comfortable with in that moment.

Contempt flooded Cullen’s body as he matched Leliana’s stern glare, adding a bit of disgust for good measure. “You presume to know my feelings? Or hers? Do you truly think I do not know what happens if she, or any one of us, fails? You think so little of me or of her that you believe that either of us would jeopardize the fate of the world on a _whim_? While I cannot speak to Halise’s deepest feelings I can speak to mine. My heart sings her name and I will worship at the altar of her grace, kindness, and courage until I draw my last breath, whether that happens in service to her as her Commander, as her partner, or as a man who was simply given the gift of loving her once in days long past. _Nothing_ about this is fleeting or disingenuous to me. She is the world to me, in every sense, and I will thank you not to question my motives again.”

Leliana’s face was unchanged. “That’s all very moving, Commander,” she spat, “but know that I am watching. If I see her broken by you, I will soon see to it that you are broken by me. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” With that, Cullen stormed out of the war room, hand clutching the pommel of his sword so tightly he thought he might crush it.

He was furious, but he knew that he needed to go and speak to Halise before he took another breath. He had to tell her about the lyrium. If she rejected him, or relieved him of his duty, he would at least know that his secret wouldn’t crush her or the Inquisition. But she had to know so she could make that decision.

He found her in the stables with horsemaster Dennett and her new battle nug. It was a massive beast with gargantuan feet and horns that wound their way outward to a point just above its nose. Its coat was a rich chestnut with dark stripes winding down its ribs from its spine. The nug’s face was much like that of an ordinary field or house nug, with somewhat small eyes, a broad snout, and pronounced lips.

Halise was standing directly in front of the beast cooing at it as she stroked its nose. She placed her forehead near its mouth and it lipped at her face. Grabbing onto the horns, Halise murmured something to the nug. With a loud snort, it lifted its head skyward, pulling Halise’s feet off the ground. Fear clutched at Cullen’s heart for a moment, until he heard her let out a short burst of laughter. The hulking mount then lowered its head, setting her back down on the ground carefully.

Only after her feet were settled on the dirt for a moment did Halise turn and see him. Her grin broadened before she jogged the few steps over to him. Her fluid movements reminded him of a deer, and he thought for a moment that he understood why she was bound to Ghilan'nain. Once she reached him, she clasped her fingers around his hand.

“Did you see?” she chirped eagerly. “I have a battle nug, and he _likes_ me! I’m going to take him with me to the Western Approach. Ooh it’s going to be so fun to ride him!”

Halise’s childlike joy was so honest and open. Cullen’s heart swelled with her happiness. That feeling began to subside when he remembered what he came to talk to her about.

“Halise, would you take a walk with me on the ramparts? There is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” He hated to rip her from her glee in such a way but he desperately needed to tell her before another moment of omission could pass between them.

Her face showed that she recognized his seriousness, and she silently walked toward the stone steps to the ramparts, Cullen’s hand still in hers. “This doesn’t sound good. Is this about something bad?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave that answer to you.” Maker, he was so nervous.

“Is it me? Did I do something wrong? Is Leliana mad at me? Are _you_ mad at me?” Halise’s eyes were pleading, her brow creased with worry when she looked up to him as they climbed.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Cullen said, trying his best to assuage her self-doubt. As they reached the top of the stairs and turned to walk the wide stone battlements, he began.

“As the Inquisitor—and as more than that to me—I must tell you…I’m not sure if you know this, but lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer. Some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here, but I…” Maker, this was so difficult to say. “I no longer take it.”

Halise grabbed his forearm and stopped him, turning to look into his eyes as she spoke. “You stopped? For how long?”

“When I joined the Inquisition. It’s been months now.” He was having trouble looking at her. He felt so ashamed at not telling her sooner. A headache began to build behind his eyes.

Her lower lip quivered. “But stopping could—This could kill you?”

“It hasn’t yet,” he replied. “After what happened in Kirkwall—after all of that death and horror wrought by the Order—I couldn’t. I will not be bound to the Order, or that life, any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it. But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. As such, I asked Cassandra when I stopped taking it to watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty.”

Halise’s brow furrowed, her eyes scouring his for answers. “Relieved from duty? That’s your concern? Aren’t you in pain?”

“I can endure the pain,” he said as he clutched her other hand in his. “It’s hurting you or putting you in the position where you could get hurt that concerns me. If I cannot lead, then I cannot ensure your safety. I refuse to allow that.”

Before answering, Halise chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment. “I respect your decision more than you know,” she finally said. “I need you to be as safe and careful about this as you can. I won’t lose you. Not to lyrium addiction, lyrium withdrawal, or anything else. I refuse to lose you. Alright?” Her face had turned around the crease in her brow, displaying resolve.

Cullen felt a smile curve his lips. How had he managed to get so lucky while the world was falling apart around them? He rotated his hand in Halise’s until their arms were crossed and their fingers were entwined. With his other hand he lightly grasped the small of her back and pulled her to his chest. “Alright,” he said before placing a delicate kiss on her lips. She smiled against him, dropping her head to rest on the fur of his collar as she let out a small sigh.

Truly, how had he gotten so lucky?

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead...Hard angst...
> 
> Also, serious note at the end.

“Commander,” Halise muttered as she wrote. No, that wasn’t any good. She crumpled up the parchment she had immediately ruined by writing _that_ on it. This was her first letter to him like this, and she wanted it to be good, though she knew it couldn’t be as good as his. _Stupid,_ she thought, _just act like you’re talking to him._

She grabbed a new parchment and started over.

_Cullen,_

_I miss you. I wanted to start with that because it is one of the truest things I know. Down to my bones, I know I miss you._

_I hope this finds you well (and that you’re taking care of yourself like you promised). I had an incredibly fun ride out here on Moosh. I decided to call him that because it’s what he does to things he steps on, and also the noise he makes when he grunts from happiness. Despite his size and wild upbringing, he is very well behaved and well trained. And fluffy._

_Things have been strange in the Western Approach. Most of the Venatori activity we heard about was related to a large ruin with a frozen rift inside. Frozen in time, I mean, not with ice. The Venatori were trying to open a door to unfreeze time there, though I’m not entirely certain what their plan was after that. Incidentally, I did manage to open the door and accidentally unfroze the rift when I grabbed a staff. Sera told me not to touch it, but it looked powerful and I wanted Dorian to have a better weapon. Whoops. But at least Dorian’s grateful, despite Sera muttering about how she told me not to touch it for a full day afterward. Blackwall just thought it was hilarious._

_We also managed to meet up with Hawke and Stroud. Good news and bad news. Good news: we found some of the Grey Wardens and we know where most of the rest are. Bad news: remember the demon army we heard about in my little jaunt into the future? Well, the Warden mages, led by Warden-Commander Clarel and a Tevinter magister named Erimond, are binding themselves to demons using blood magic. I remember what you said about blood magic, and I’ve been talking to Dorian and Hawke about it as well._

_This news is tragic and frightening, but I don’t think that all of the Grey Wardens are beyond saving. Erimond has tricked them into thinking they’re doing this so they can go into the Deep Roads and end the Blight forever. We discovered that most of them are at Adamant Fortress, which is where most of the blood magic demon binding is going on. They’re preparing for some larger ritual there, but we don’t know what it’s intended to do._

_We’re all coming back to Skyhold in a few days. We need to take back Griffon Wing Keep first, but I wanted to write ahead and ask you to start preparing the troops and our other resources for a quick turnaround. We have a big fight ahead of us, and we need to move quickly._

_In spite of, and perhaps even in light of all this, I miss you terribly, and am excited to see you._

_Yours always,_

_Halise_

*****

Retaking Griffon Wing Keep was not nearly as hard as Halise anticipated it would be. The Venatori that remained there after she and her companions had dispatched of the rest in the area were small in number and weak. They fell like autumn leaves under the barrage that was Halise, Sera, Dorian, and Blackwall. The keep itself was massive and strong. The brown and tan stone had been there for centuries, and there was little doubt it would remain for centuries more. Remnants of the Grey Wardens were scattered all around, with sigils and griffon statues sprinkled over every battlement.

After Cullen had received Halise’s letter, he quickly sent a large group of soldiers to the Western Approach to hold the keep. They brought merchants and scouts along with them. Halise saw them coming just before her assault, and they were quick to take up residence in the aftermath.

Knight-Captain Rylen, who Cullen had mentioned to her a few times as being a sturdy soldier and good leader, took command over the personnel at the keep. It was Halise’s first meeting with him. As a roamer of the Free Marches, Halise could instantly tell that Rylen was all Starkhaven. His olive complexion, swagger, and brogue gave him away without a moment’s hesitation. But he was a kind man, and funny. Halise understood why Cullen trusted him, they were so much alike.

Then she noticed the bold tattoo on Rylen’s nose. It swirled along his nostril and came to a point parallel with the tip of his nose, running in a straight line back up the bridge. Her manners escaped her for a split second as she leaned far too close to his face and cocked her head, examining the inked artwork. “Did that hurt? Getting it on your nose like that?” she asked, still too close to his face.

“Well, some, yes,” he answered matter-of-factly, smirking as he watched Halise examine his face, unperturbed by her proximity. There was the difference between Rylen and Cullen. Rylen was far more comfortable in the presence of women. Halise let out a short cough to keep herself from laughing when she thought about it.

“Did yours hurt when you got them?” he asked, casually pointing at her vallaslin.

“Yes. Especially the one on my forehead. But we’re not allowed to make any sounds when we get them. It shows weakness and unpreparedness, according to my Keeper. I think it just shows that getting a needle stuck in your face five thousand times hurts a lot. But hey, what do I know, right?” Halise shrugged.

Rylen let out a strong rolling laugh, bringing up a chuckle in Halise’s chest in the process. “I think I’d have to agree with ya on that one, Inquisitor.”

She let the title slide that time.

*****

Their return to Skyhold had been very brief, with almost an overnight turnaround back to the Western Approach toward Adamant. Halise and her advisors held a quick meeting in the war room to discuss strategies and the use of the siege engines provided by the lovely Lady Seryl of Jader. Halise would have to remember to write her a very heartfelt thank you note.

Ultimately, Leliana and Cullen also made the journey. Leliana wanted to be able to give and receive information to and from her agents more quickly in the heat of battle, and Cullen had to be there to command his forces. Halise was more than a little glad for Cullen’s presence, though she tried not to ride next to him for too long at a time, lest the soldiers figure out too much of what was going on between them. Also, his horse, a bay draft stallion big enough to hold Cullen’s strapping warrior physique and heavy armor, was not thrilled at being forced to walk next to Moosh.

She and Cullen also had to sleep in different tents on almost opposite sides of the camp, which made them even more conspicuous when he would wander over to her fire pit for dinner. He always brought some manufactured-looking report he had clearly written himself to keep up the guise that he was there on business and just _happened_ to sit down and eat with them.

But everything changed when they arrived at Adamant. He truly metamorphosed back into her Commander the night before the siege, stopping by with actual troop counts and a battle plan. Halise trusted him with their tactics and approved everything he gave her without hesitation. It didn’t hurt that he, Cassandra, and Leliana were agreeing on everything either.

Halise had some difficulty sleeping that night, knowing what was going to happen the next day. She knew that even staying awake couldn’t stop the battle, but it still felt further away like that. Her trepidation settled more around the casualties she knew were inevitable than any danger to her own life. It was a hard path, but she would walk it nonetheless.

When the battle started, she watched dozens of her soldiers die. Some were struck by rocks being thrown from the battlements before they breached the gate, some were hit by flaming arrows and died screaming, and some were thrown off the battlements by Wardens and their demons, hitting the ground with sickening thuds. Halise had to use her entire force of will not to cry, vomit, or run in early to help as she watched the casualties mount on both sides.

Once the gates had been breached, Halise, Sera, Dorian, and Blackwall ran in to eliminate the remaining few resisting Wardens. They made quick work of it, each killing a Warden or his demon. Cullen stepped across the threshold to update her on the situation and provide her with direction just as a stone from a trebuchet collapsed the interior gate not far ahead of them.

“You have your way in. You’d best make use of it,” he said. His face was severe, marked by the losses they had already suffered and his determination to succeed. “We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can.”

Halise’s heart jumped into her throat. “For as long as you can? What the—” She stopped and shook the fear from her voice. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks. Keep the men safe. I’ll be fine.”

His brow creased further. “We’ll do what we have to. Warden Stroud has your back and Hawke is up on the battlements with our soldiers waiting for you. There is too much resistance up there as it is right now, but if you help clear out the enemies we’ll guard your advance to the center of the fortress.”

We? “You’re coming up too?”

“Yes. I cannot adequately command my men from the ground outside. I have to lead from within.”

Halise swallowed thickly, her stomach turning. “Please be careful,” she said, much more softly this time.

“I must do what I can to ensure our victory, and your survival,” he replied, a similar tone coating his words.

She reached out and grasped his hand for a split second before running toward the battlements. Her eyes burned as they ran, but she forced herself to swallow back the tears. She turned her eyes up in an attempt to let the moisture fall back into her.

That was when she saw it. The archdemon from Haven was circling over the fortress, raining down its red electrical fire. The stuff was pure corruption. It was nowhere near them at the moment, but deeper into the fortress ahead. She resolved simply to continue forward and deal with it when they got to it.

“That friggin’ archdemon is here!” Sera shouted as they ran. “Not good.”

“Thank you for providing us with the most up-to-date and obvious information possible, Sera,” Dorian retorted sarcastically.

“Now, now children,” Blackwall spoke up, “no more fighting or I’ll turn this siege around right back to Skyhold!”

“Yes, that please.” Sera pointed very deliberately at him while they pressed on.

Wave after wave of demons and corrupted Wardens came at them as they moved up the battlements. Halise and each of her party members took several hard blows, though they dealt harder ones. She could feel exhaustion creeping into her muscles. Each enemy forced more exertion, and because there were so many, she could feel her bicep, shoulder, and back burning and aching with every arrow she drew. She noted with disdain that they were not doing as much damage as they had been when they first entered, so not only was she exhausted from drawing and loosing so many arrows, but her fatigue was forcing her to do double the work.

Halise was unbearably grateful when they got a momentary reprieve after finding a group of Wardens who could be reasoned with. She took the opportunity to stretch her arm around over her back, pulling on her elbow to ensure each muscle group got its fair share of limbering. Everyone took a moment to drink a potion to relieve their more minor injuries and aches before moving on.

They ran into Hawke on the battlements looking for orders from Halise. She told him as succinctly as she could muster just to keep her men safe and not to worry about her. Several minutes later she was glad she had done that, because when they reached one of the final areas before the center courtyard, Hawke arrived once more, advising her that more than a dozen of her men lived because he stayed behind. She allowed a fragment of relief to slide into her.

He also told her, however, that Cullen was holding the path open for them for as long as he could. She really hated that phrase, and everyone kept saying it. As long as he/I/we/you can. It sounded like they meant, “until he/I/we/you die.” The thought of that made her nauseous.

The next door they opened lead into the courtyard. Halise walked through just in time to see Warden-Commander Clarel opening a man’s throat, spilling his blood toward what looked like the makings of a rift about to open. Magister Erimond stood at her side, and upon seeing Halise directed the Wardens in the courtyard to attack her so the ritual could be completed.

“Clarel!” Halise shouted. “If you complete that ritual, you’re doing exactly what Erimond wants! You’ll bind yourself and all you men to demons, and Erimond will bind you to Corypheus!” She clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms, leaving little red crescent-shaped bites in her skin. All of the men who had died for this foolishness would not have died for nothing.

“But Corypheus is dead,” Clarel said, stunned.

“No he isn’t, Clarel! This mark,” she held up her glowing left hand, “is his doing! He plans to use you all to do his bidding in destroying Thedas!”

Clarel, a lanky woman with close-shorn hair and a weathered face, rested her palm on her forehead for a moment before ordering, “Bring it through.”

“No!” Halise hollered in vain as the Warden mages opened the rift. She could only see bits and pieces of the horrifying monster on the other side. “Blackwall, can you please talk some sense into them?!”

Blackwall nodded to her firmly as he began. “You don’t know me, but you may have heard my name. Like you, I’ve given my life to the Grey Wardens. The first time I put on this armor, I felt like I belonged, like I was part of something honorable, something with a purpose. I know how good that feels. How safe. But fighting and dying here today won’t stop the Blight! If you want to stop the Blight, kill that bastard up there!” He gestured with his sword toward Erimond. “His master is the living embodiment of its corruption!”

With that, the Wardens, including Clarel, turned on Erimond one by one. Clarel refused to complete the ritual. So Erimond, big gaping asshole that he was, summoned the archdemon back into the courtyard. Its broken shrieks filled the air as it descended, ripped wings blowing down a fierce wind with every flap. The dragon-like archdemon perched itself on a tower behind Halise, raining down its corrupted breath on anyone who tried to leave the courtyard.

As she stared up at the beast, she saw a tremendous bolt of lightning strike it. Halise whirled around to see the source, and saw Clarel chasing after Erimond, shouting as she ran. “Help the Inquisitor!”

Like some form of twisted reminder, several demons came leaping through the rift left open in the center of the courtyard. Halise and her party fanned out, the Wardens running headlong into the fray. Of the greatest concern to Halise was the massive pride demon in the middle. It was heavily armored and, in her past experience, would not go down from just one or two arrows. She allowed the Wardens to continue fighting the rage demons and shades while the attention of her companions was focused on the pride demon. Slowly, they picked away at it, and Halise managed to deal the killing blow after several long minutes, striking it in the eye with her arrow. All the while they were forced to avoid the archdemon’s corrupted breath.

The second the final demon was dead, Halise raced up the ramparts to chase Clarel and Erimond. She could hear the archdemon flying over and around them, forcing her to dodge its attacks every few seconds. When she had almost caught up to Clarel, the archdemon perched itself on the side of the fortress and jammed its head directly in her path. She loosed three arrows into its thick skull as she tried to run past, but her hip clipped the monster’s snout, sending her tumbling against the railing.

Sera grabbed Halise’s hand as she ran by, lifting her up to give chase once more. The group rounded a corner, Halise almost losing her footing again as she slipped from the sharpness of the turn, to see Clarel charging at Erimond and knocking him to the ground. Halise couldn’t hear what they were saying, but ran to help Clarel kill Erimond anyway.

In the blink of an eye, the archdemon clamored down on the walkway and snatched Clarel up in its jaws, spilling her blood all over the stones. The mammoth fiend landed on the roof of the entrance behind Halise, breaking apart the ancient structure and sending jagged rock flying in every direction. It shook Clarel’s body violently before throwing her to the ground at Halise’s feet.

When the demon began to crawl toward them, Halise and her friends backed up. She turned her head, noting that they were rapidly backing toward a dead end that lead into a very, very deep chasm. Then she spun back to face the demon again, but saw movement behind it.

Several soldiers ran toward the entryway, swords drawn but silent. She saw Cullen among them, a vicious scowl coloring his normally stoic face. He and his men crept forward at the same pace as the dragon.

Halise wanted to scream at them to turn around and go back, but she didn’t want to draw the archdemon’s attention to them. She was afraid to die, but better her than Cullen. When the archdemon was about to step on Clarel, Halise could hear her talking, but it was unintelligible with all of the noise around them. Then with a flash of lighting and an explosion, Clarel was dead, and the demon was wounded and flying away.

Halise had less than an instant to feel relief before the ground began to crumble beneath her and her friends. The parts of the walkway closest to the chasm began to break off and fall away. She started to run toward Cullen, who also started to run toward her. But she heard Stroud fall behind her, and he would have gone into the abyss if she had not turned back at that moment to grab him.

Fractures much larger than her split the stone before her when she turned back toward the entryway. The thousand-year-old ground beneath her feet rumbled and ruptured. She knew then that they were not going to make it to the entryway before the path fell out from under them. She screamed to Cullen as she ran. “Go back!!! Turn around! Don’t—”

Her warnings were interrupted by the little flip in her stomach as her feet could no longer find purchase. All that was below her was air. She could only watch as she fell away from Cullen. His mouth was wide and he was shouting something, but she couldn’t hear him. The top of his head vanished past the stone as she dropped.

Her body rotated toward the ground far below, and she thought a thousand thoughts all at once as her hair blew across her face then up behind her. Just one of those thousand thoughts said to her, _Hey, try and open up a rift! You came out of the Fade once, maybe you can do it again._ It wasn’t the craziest thought in light of her imminent demise, so she put out her marked hand and willed there to be a rift. Her mark vibrated, and she saw a flash of light before she was…

Upside down? With a puddle above her? Halise reached her finger up to tap the water, her mind whirring in confusion and fascination, but was immediately hurled to the ground by the shift of gravity, landing her on her neck and shoulder with a crash.

“Ow,” she groaned as she stood. She squinted to get her eyes to focus while she looked around. Her head turned up and to the left, where she saw Stroud walking sideways on a wall.

“Where are we?” he asked haltingly.

“We were falling,” Hawke’s voice said. Halise craned her neck in the direction of the sound to see him walking upside down. At that sight, she closed her eyes and groaned again.

“Is this—Are we dead?” Hawke sounded as confused as she was.

Stroud replied, “No. The Inquisitor used her mark to open another rift. We fell through. I believe we are physically in the Fade.”

“Shit,” Halise moaned, still clutching at her shoulder, trying desperately to work out the cramp that settled there in the wake of her surprise collision with the ground. “Well I’m glad you seem to know what’s going on here, Stroud.”

Halise looked at Sera, whose head was darting in every direction. “Shitballs, fuck, shit, crap. Fade, shit, arse, demons, crap!”

Halise walked over to her and put her hands on Sera’s shoulders. “Look at me, Sera. Focus on me for a second.” Sera hesitantly obeyed. “You and I are here together. I have your back, so you have mine, yeah?”

“Yeah,” the blonde elf replied, her voice trembling as she spoke. Halise could feel Sera’s body shaking beneath her hands. She had never seen her fearless and indomitable friend so frightened. It was deeply unsettling.

She could hear everyone around her talking about their previous experiences in the Fade and how ultimately none of them mattered because they were there physically. Stroud recalled that the rift in the courtyard was not far from where they fell, and inquired of Halise whether she thought they would be able to go back through from there. Her response was a half-mumbled, “Worth a shot.”

The whole environment bore a yellow-green tinge, leaving the ground, water, and sky looking toxic and foreboding. Ash floated through the air around them. Every surface was jagged and marred, and as the group forged ahead, consternation crept into every nook and cranny of Halise’s being when she saw a perfect replica of the Breach she had closed still sitting in the sky above them.

Something felt wrong. It went beyond physically walking in the Fade and the continued presence of the Breach. Halise felt strange down to her bones. Her equilibrium was thrown off and she felt a buzzing in her head and under her skin. The din and vibrating sensation continued, causing Halise to appear much more nonplussed than she actually was when they met a spirit that took the form of the months-dead Divine Justinia.

The spirit looked like Justinia at first, but glowed a brilliant gold as she spoke benevolently to them in Justinia’s voice, directing Halise’s attention to a number of glowing green orbs containing Halise’s memories of what happened at the Conclave. The Justinia-spirit also told them that a demon who called itself “Nightmare” had situated himself as their primary antagonist, his plan to leave the Fade having disintegrated with Clarel’s death. The demon stole people’s fears, hoarding them until he could spew them back out to cause the most damage, begetting more fear.

Upon Halise’s approach toward the first memory orb, half a dozen giant spiders came pouring toward them. They were killed easily enough, but in their wake, images of people started to appear. Each ghost walked up to Halise one by one, all of them yelling “failure” in a cacophonous riot. A man in an Inquisition helmet nudged past her first, glaring at her before saying, “Failure. You’re a failure and I’m dead because of you. Inquisitor my ass. Fucking failure of an elf.”

The rest passed by her muttering similar things. All the while, Halise’s face bore her disquiet and terror. She could feel her hand pulsing. Not the marked one, but the one she used to like to make tiny lightning with. It hummed and ached, shooting sharp pains up her arm. She refused to let the pain and horror stop her from retrieving her memories from the Conclave, and parts of them were given back to her from within the spherical balls of light.

The Justinia-spirit lead them forward through the maze of craggy rocks and corpses amassing in their wake. Halise collected more fragments of her memory of that fateful day. Meanwhile, Nightmare taunted everyone with his perceptions of their worst fears, telling Dorian that he had become the same man as his father, saying Blackwall was nothing like a Grey Warden, and that Sera couldn’t hurt him with arrows.

The demon’s thundering voice then turned to Halise. “Oh little Halise from the woods, do you really need to be reminded of what a failure you truly are? How can you expect to save the people of Thedas when you couldn’t even save Eirlan? You couldn’t protect her from weak men, so how will you protect the world from a god?”

Halise’s arm felt like it was going to implode. The pain zapped through most of her body by that point, and everything in her screamed out, except her voice. She kept her face stoic, but she could feel herself quaking apart with the effort it took to accomplish that feat.

By the time they made it to her last cluster of memories, Halise thought she would shatter apart if she moved to retrieve them. But she did it anyway. When she drained the last orb, her memory of what happened at the Conclave—who killed Justinia and gave Halise her mark—projected out for everyone to see, though Halise felt as if she was living through it a second time.

Corypheus and a pack of Grey Wardens held up Justinia as she cried out in every direction for help. The twisted monster called her a sacrifice, holding up the metallic orb Halise had seen him with at Haven when he tried to take back her mark. Halise came running into the room just in time to surprise Corypheus, allowing Justinia to knock the orb from his hand. When Halise picked it up, the world broke apart around them all with the opening of a rift that sent the two of them physically into the Fade together. When they tried to escape, they were attacked by demons. Justinia pushed Halise out of the rift just before being attacked and killed.

“So it was Justinia they saw behind you when you emerged,” Dorian said. Or she thought she heard Dorian say.

Another memory flew out of her mind in front of her eyes before she had time to contemplate the first. This one was older. Halise stood in a tree looking out over a road that wound into a city. She turned to look at her sister. Eirlan looked curiously toward the edges of the city, her silver hair braided and knotted on top of her head, ice blue eyes filled with wonder. She said, “There are two soldiers coming.”

 _No_. Halise knew this memory. But not only was she being forced to remember this, but her body was being puppeteered to act it out. As the soldiers neared their tree, Eirlan grabbed a branch that was too small to carry any of her weight. It snapped, and she tumbled out of the tree with a scream and a smack. Dirt rose in a small cloud around her as the Templars leapt backward in shock at the little elf who fell from above them. Their helmets muffled their quiet speech to each other. Then they saw her staff.

Halise threw herself out of the tree as fast as she could, and even though she knew what was about to happen, the same Templar still managed to hold her in the same way, dagger against her throat. Eirlan still drew her staff to protect her sister, and the other Templar still ran her through with his sword. Halise once again struggled free of the Templar holding her, once again getting a deep knife wound on her jaw. Only this time when she turned around, she stood face to face with Cullen, smiling at her.

She knew it was him, and she didn’t want to kill him, but she drove an arrow into his throat anyway, feeling every splinter as it punctured his muscles and windpipe. She screamed with the full force of her lungs and cried as blood poured from his throat and mouth and he died in a heap. But she couldn’t look at him. She had to turn to the Templar that killed her sister. When she pivoted to him, his helmet was off too, and it was Cullen again, still smiling. Again, she did not want to kill him, but she drew her bow, nocked an arrow, and loosed it directly into his eye.

The sound of her own screams filled her ears as the vision dissipated from her view. Halise’s right hand crackled with lightning. As she sobbed and screamed on her knees, her hand began to send large bolts of lightning flying in every direction. She could hear Dorian shouting her name, but she couldn’t tear herself from the ground, and couldn’t control the magic flying from her hand. It seared her skin as it sparked and struck. She watched her fat tears falling into the disgusting green-brown dirt, beading into mud.

In an instant, she felt the leather and buckles of Dorian’s robe pressed against her back. His arms were wrapped around her, and she could feel his breath against her pointed ear. “Halise, it’s alright. Halise, it wasn’t real,” he whispered.

The lightning shooting from her hand calmed itself to sparking. Halise spoke, knowing Dorian would hear her. “But it was, Dorian. My sister _was_ killed by Templars, and I _did_ kill them.” Her breath ripped ant tore its way in and out of her chest.

“But they weren’t Cullen,” he replied softly. “They were two fiendish men that killed your sister. They were not Cullen. Cullen is alive and waiting for you on the other side of that rift. For that reason, and many others, we have to leave this place.”

Halise realized this was the second time Dorian had to do this for her. Pulling her out of her terror seemed to be a specialty of his. Though tears still streamed down her cheeks, and her hand still crackled softly, she stood and walked in the direction of the opening.

But enough was truly never enough. The group crested a small staircase, and could see the open rift. Directly in front of it, however, was something that looked like an arcane horror, but with more arms. Behind that, a spider the size of a building, covered in grotesque holes and oozing ichor to the ground. As hit happened, the horror-looking creature was one aspect of Nightmare, the giant spider was yet another.

The Justinia-spirit pushed past Halise, floating toward Nightmare as her glow grew almost too bright to look at. “If you would,” she said, “please tell Leliana, ‘I’m sorry. I failed you, too.’”

Then she exploded, knocking both aspects of nightmare away. Unfortunately, the smaller one immediately jumped back up. The fight was short, despite Nightmare’s constant bellowing and comparatively tiny giant spiders. There were five others fighting alongside Halise, making it much easier to defeat the demon.

They ran once more for the rift, and Sera, Dorian, and Blackwall made it through. But only feet away, the giant spider reappeared, blocking Halise, Stroud, and Hawke’s escape. Hawke and Stroud both volunteered to stay behind, and both looked to Halise to decide who would.

The strain of one more death because of her nearly fractured Halise. They had forced her, with only seconds to deliberate, to decide who the world still needed. She couldn’t bear to keep making these choices. Who lives? Who dies? Who does she have to kill herself? Who does she have to send to their death?

“Stroud,” she finally said.

Part of her died in that moment. The little part of her left that thought she could save everyone. Gone. Cast asunder. Stroud let out a battle cry on behalf of all Grey Wardens while she and Hawke slipped by and through the rift, back out to safety.

With very little ceremony and too much fanfare, Halise slammed the rift closed. Then she informed the Wardens that the most senior left among them died bravely to save Thedas. When they asked her what they should do she told them the only thing that seemed right. Even though they could still be corrupted, she could not banish them. If a new Blight arose there would be no one to stop it. So she told them to fight with the Inquisition. There were plenty of demons that still needed killing.

Not allowing any time for her decisions to sink in, she began her march back to her tent. Her eyes were tired and her jaw was clenched as she walked. For perhaps the first time in her life, she did not want to speak to anyone.

Then Cullen appeared.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to get real with you for just a moment. Spiders are icky and a little scary, and I'm actually allergic to them, but my biggest fear is failure. Not death, and I actually like public speaking, but failure. It sits in the back of my mind all the time and tells me not to try, or that anything I attempt will end disastrously. But fear of failure should never stop you from trying. If you have similar trepidation, I want you to run in the face of that fear. When your mind screams and tells you you're doomed to fail, that is when it is most important to try. For example, I was scared to post this story. Scared that no one would like it or read it. But I did it anyway. And you all have shown such kindness in your kudos and comments, and I just want to take a moment to say "Thank you," for that. I was so scared of failing the Bar Exam that I almost dropped my laptop the first morning because my hands and body were shaking so hard, and even though I still don't know if I passed yet, I locked it up and actually felt good a couple of times during the three-day test. Face down your fears, and embrace failure as a learning experience if and when it happens. And if it does, know that you are in the company of great people throughout history. Never stop fighting.
> 
> Seriousness complete. ^_^
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst ahead...
> 
> But there's a song in this chapter! Not necessarily what you'd think either. You can listen along if you [click here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50GZMrB4fwI)!
> 
> Enjoy!

“I can’t,” Halise said with a blank stare as she walked right past Cullen and out of the courtyard. “I can’t do this with you right now.”

He followed after her, catching up and walking by her side. Her pace was unusually fast, and somewhat erratic. She still wouldn’t look at him as he stared down at her face. Her hair, face, and coat were covered in dirt and splatters of black sludge.

Cullen was more than just terrified when he watched Halise disappear from the collapsing path into the abyss. He was furious. How could she have put herself into that situation? She shouldn’t have gone traipsing after Clarel and Erimond without more soldiers. Clarel may still have been killed, but she wouldn’t have had to blow up the walkway to chase off the archdemon. Then it would have stayed intact, and Cullen would not have spent an hour fearing Thedas had lost its savior forever. That he had lost Halise forever.

“Halise, why did you chase—” he started.

“I can’t do this with you right now,” Halise interrupted, still refusing to look at him as she stepped less than carefully over the rubble of the front gate. Her refusal to listen to him made him bristle.

“Listen to me. You can’t just—”

“I can’t do this with you right now,” she repeated. Her tone and face were unmoving, unwavering.

Cullen’s confusion and anger seared his words. “Stop saying that—”

“I can’t do—”

“This with me right now?!” It was Cullen’s turn to interrupt as they approached the edge of their camp. He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her to face him. “I heard you the first twenty times you said it!”

Halise’s stare was hollow. It was as if she looked right through Cullen when he tried to speak to her. Worry and disquiet pressed hard behind his eyes, reminding him of the blinding headache he had for days. She refused to move now that he had altered her trajectory. He’d seen her angry before, and he had seen her sad before, but nothing like this, almost catatonic. She reminded him of the Tranquil in the Circle, the thought of which petrified him.

“Halise,” he began, softer than before, hoping to coddle her into speaking to him, “what happened?” He prayed to the Maker that starting out with a simpler question would help.

But she said nothing as she turned her head in the direction of her tent, allowing her body to follow languidly. In seeing her trancelike movements, Cullen decided just to follow her. He moved beside her with more care, as though she were a brittle object or a ghost that would vanish at his slightest touch.

She ducked into her tent with one swift motion, and Cullen thought only for a split second before following her in. He lifted his head as he entered and saw Halise, still blank-faced, tearing her armor off. She didn’t undo any of the buttons or clasps, but literally tore the sleeves off with a grunt before she wrenched the front open, sending buttons flying all over her tent and buckles jingling about with abandon.

She turned her back to him and tore her boots off, flinging them against the opposite side of the tent. Her breeches were next, and she ripped the entire front of them open before pushing them down her legs and kicking them away. She was making much more noise now, grunting and groaning while she shed everything that had touched the world she fell into.

By the time she was down to just her unsoiled tunic and smallclothes, Cullen could hear her quiet whimpering. He had been watching stark still near the front of her tent, but took her slumped posture as a sign that she might allow him to approach her.

Halise’s expression was still blank, but was covered in tears. They carved a path through the dirt and slime smeared across her lightly freckled cheeks. Her barely visible green eyes glittered, but not in the way they normally did when she smiled. Her hair was sporadically matted down with something that may have been blood. The same substance was splattered across the front of her armor. Her entire body trembled as he stood before her.

Cullen was afraid to touch her. He thought she might break with the slightest caress. Halise brought her hands up toward her face, regarding them emptily as she turned them over and over. Her fingers shook almost violently. She focused on her right hand, which was spoiled by something resembling burn marks, and more of the blood-like substance.

“You killed her,” Halise murmured so quietly Cullen almost didn’t hear her. “You killed her and he made me kill you. Twice. It wasn’t you, but it was.” Her shivering intensified, and he thought she might break into pieces.

“What?” he asked softly, afraid to scare her.

“Nightmare. He made me see you kill her, then he made me kill you. I didn’t want to. It wasn’t real. Itwasn’trealitwasn’treal…” Her voice grew more frantic as she reached her quivering hands toward him, palming his jaw gently. The feeling of her trembling against him broke his heart. His chest heaved with the ache he felt for her. His jaw clenched against the graze of her delicate fingertips, now battered and raw.

“I don’t understand.” Cullen was holding together by the thinnest of threads, trying to maintain his composure for her. He had to be strong for her.

“That’s because I’m not making any sense.” Her voice was marginally more steady now that she was touching him. Maybe he should have reached out for her sooner. No, she needed to do this at her own pace.

“Tell me what happened.” Tentatively, he laced his fingers into hers with his palm against the back of her hand.

“The demon on the other side of the rift. His name was Nightmare. He stole fear to throw it back at us. He went especially hard on me. After he let me have my memory back about the Conclave, he decided to play me another scene.” Halise’s voice grew bitter as she spoke.

“He showed me my sister dying again, and I did exactly what I did the first time, because that’s what happened. But he managed to string another fear in with that. He made me see you as both the Templars—the one that cut me and the one that killed Eirlan—and because I had to do what I did the first time, I killed you. I had to do it twice. All of this disgusting shit on my hands and in my hair is your blood.”

Cullen felt his brows crease as he listened to her. He squeezed her hand tighter and held it against his face. He would not let her come apart.

“I’m a failure,” she continued. “I got a lot of good men killed. I had to choose to let Stroud die instead of me. I’m failing. I’m failing everyone.” She shook her head back and forth slowly.

“No. No you’re not.”

“I am. I’m failing you too. I never told you about my connection to the Fade. I don’t mean the mark, either.” Halise’s gaze bored into him. “My Keeper told me when I was very young that I had a ‘unique connection to the Fade.’ I would never fully manifest magic, but there would be little things, and it would change how I saw the world. She was right. I know you’ve felt me shock you before, when I was emotional.”

His jaw was slack as he listened to her. Cullen wracked his memory for what she was talking about and remembered each of the times he felt something and smelled ozone around Halise. “Y-you have magic?” He could barely force the words from his mouth.

“Not really,” she replied. “I basically have static in one hand, like when it gets dry in the winter. But when I was in the Fade…I don’t know. I guess the connection went crazy after…that.” She shuddered at the thought. “My hand is burned because lightning shot out of it uncontrollably. Dorian calmed me down, and eventually it stopped. I can’t even feel the little buzz I usually feel anymore.”

Halise clenched and unclenched her singed fingers, still entwined with Cullen’s. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

Her statement stunned Cullen back to his senses. “Why would I possibly want that?” His eyes searched hers in an attempt to discover what in her mind would make her think something like that.

“I lied,” she murmured. “I didn’t tell you about the little lightning. I’m letting people die all around me. I failed you.”

He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arm around her waist. His other hand still held hers against his face. Cullen pressed his cheek against Halise’s forehead. “How could you think that, Halise? You haven’t failed me. You couldn’t possibly fail me. I am so in awe of you in every moment. Nothing you could ever do, including killing me twice, would stop me from wanting to be with you.”

Halise either chuckled or sobbed against him. “Are you sure?”

Cullen pulled his face from hers to look her in the eyes so she would know how sure he was. “Nothing can tear me from you. Nothing.”

Halise’s appearance softened. She began to tremble once again, but this time a smile grew under her sad eyes. “In that case, will you help me wash your blood out of my hair?”

Cullen laughed breathily through his nose, sounding markedly similar to the almost sobs emanating from Halise. “Anything for you.”

*****

It took them several days to get back to Skyhold. Halise was drained the entire trip. She didn’t even seem to enjoy riding Moosh as much as she had on their way to Adamant, which came as a shock to Cullen, given her predilection for the massive nug. He tried to set his tent up closer to Halise’s every night so he could go to her if she needed him. It was a good idea.

On the third night, her screams rang out through the camp in the dead of night. Cullen was still awake, attempting unsuccessfully to manage his increasingly worsening withdrawal sweats and headaches. The second he heard her voice, he ran to her, flying into her tent before even the nearest watch guard could get there.

Halise was drenched in sweat, thrashing against her cot. Her hands gripped and tore at her nightshirt as her legs writhed, scraping against the canvas. Her light blanket was bunched up on the floor near her feet.

Cullen’s experience with nightmares informed his cautious movements. He gently placed his hand over hers, grazing the knuckles of his other hand across her cheek as he quietly chanted her name like an erratic prayer. He repeated the motion several times before opening his hand against her face. He continued to stroke her softly until she bolted awake.

Halise’s eyes darted around her tent before catching on Cullen’s face. She sighed and panted in her relief. “Cullen,” she gasped, “Mythalenaste. You’re here. You’re alive. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Everything is okay. You’re alright.” Cullen hoped his voice was as soothing as he was trying to make it.

She grabbed at him, snatching up the collar of his shirt before throwing her arms around his neck. “You have to stay with me. You have to stay here.” Her voice was panic-stricken.

“Of course,” Cullen replied hastily, not wanting to think any more about it than what his heart cried out.

Halise’s cot was small, and Cullen was by no means a slight man, but he was determined to make it work. For her. She moved to the side of the little bed with her back to him, and he slid in behind her carefully. He could feel her tremors against his chest. Cullen wrapped his arms around Halise’s trembling body, and he squeezed her to him as tightly as he could without hurting her. She curled her hands around his forearms and whimpered.

He breathed in the earthy and sweet scent of her hair, trying not to let her feel his concern. She was always singing for everyone, but who sang for her? It wasn’t fair for her to have to pour herself out for people in unmeasured doses while they took what they could. Cullen decided that he had to do it—to make her feel what was in his heart. He’d sung in the Chantry growing up, and the chants when he was a Templar, his voice wasn’t bad. The problem was, he didn’t know many songs. Most everything he knew was from his time as a Templar—Chantry songs. Maybe if he hummed? No, that wouldn’t let him give her what she needed right now.

Then he remembered a song he heard once, he couldn’t remember where for the life of him, but he remembered it was perfect. He sang softly and tenderly, conveying everything he could to her in those moments.

 

_She moved with shameless wonder_  
 _The perfect creature rarely seen_  
 _Since some liar brought the thunder_  
 _When the land was godless and free_  
  
_Her eyes look sharp and steady_  
 _Into the empty parts of me_  
 _But still my heart is heavy_  
 _With the hate of some other man's beliefs_  
  
_Always a well-dressed fraud_  
 _Who wouldn't spare the rod_  
 _Never for me_  
  
_Screaming the name of a foreigner's god_

_Screaming the name of a foreigner's god_

_Screaming the name of a foreigner's god_  
 _The purest expression of grief_  


Halise’s trembling slowed as he sang, her fingers tightening around his wrists. Her breathing evened out, but he knew she wasn’t asleep yet, so he continued.

  
_Wondering who I copy_  
 _Mustering some tender charm_  
 _She feels no control of her body_  
 _She feels no safety in my arms_  
  
_I've no language left to say it_  
 _But all I do is quake to her_  
 _Breaking if I try to convey it_  
 _The broken love I make to her_  
  
_All that I've been taught_  
 _And every word I've got_  
 _Is foreign to me_  
  
_Screaming the name of a foreigner's god_

_Screaming the name of a foreigner's god_

_Screaming the name of a foreigner's god_   
_The purest expression of grief_

 

“Cullen,” she murmured. “I-I—”

“I know, Halise,” he replied gently. “Me too.”

_I love you,_ he thought, but refused to say. The first time couldn’t be now, not like this. She had to know, and she would. Soon.

She tilted her head to the side, leaving a warm kiss on his bicep before she settled back into him. It didn’t take long for both of them to fall asleep.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in this chapter were taken from Hozier's song, "Foreigner's God," which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50GZMrB4fwI). I doubt, at this point, that anyone hasn't heard something or another of Hozier's, but for once I think it's with good reason! So if you haven't listened to him, or you've just never heard anything besides "Take Me to Church," I highly recommend his music. He's exceedingly talented in my humble opinion.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have another song in this chapter! Yay! You can listen along [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SK6U4FiAoAs).

“I can’t,” Halise said indignantly.

“Pfft! Course you can!” Sera replied. “No one’s gonna be mad at Her Gracious Ladybits the Inquisitor if they find out it was you!” She crossed her arms over her poorly laced red tunic.

The two of them stepped out of Sera’s loft inside the Herald’s Rest. She had made it quite homey since they got there. Pillows of all shapes, sizes, and colors were strewn about, books left open on nearly every flat surface. Sera’s sketchpad sat on her bed, with a drawing in progress of Halise and Sera riding a flying shark propelled by exploding bees. It had been a couple of weeks since their journey into the Fade, and both of them were recovering relatively well, considering.

“You’ve got a problem,” Sera continued. “That, over there, is a full tavern, but everyone’s drinking alone. They’re all up their own arses about the Inquisition. _I_ can’t have fun with everybody whinging. And they’ll all fall on their swords before Coryphenus can push them. So pranks, yeah? Just you and me messing around in people’s stuff. You know, to start.”

“But I’m supposed to be the leader or something. Won’t that make it weird?” Halise bunched her mouth up on the side of her face.

Sera crinkled her nose in return. “No! What it makes it is perfect! They’ll never suspect you. Being the leader’s no good if all you get to do with it is lead everybody into being bored and scared. So, let’s have some fun, yeah?”

Halise mulled it over for a moment. Sure, she was always running around talking to people and being nice, but never having fun _with_ her soldiers, just her closest friends. And that fun was becoming scarcer and scarcer. She sighed. “Okay, lead the way!”

Sera raised her eyebrow at Halise. “What, really?”

“Yes, really. Hurry up before I change my mind, weirdo.”

A chortle rose from Sera. “Okay let’s go!”

They started in Josephine’s office, where they braced a bucket of water over her door. Sera was overcome with giggling fits so many times she almost dropped the water all over herself, which would have made Halise laugh, but no one else would have gotten the full effect. They didn’t stay to watch what would happen.

Next they headed to the rookery to fiddle with Leliana’s things. Sera was understandably more nervous about pranking Leliana. The woman had people and daggers and people with daggers everywhere. They finally decided to tie little bells to just a few of the ravens, turning the entire rotunda into a jingling noise factory. The bells were hard to see, so it would take Leliana a while to find them all and untie them.

Finally, they went to Cullen’s office. He was on the training grounds in the courtyard with some of the new recruits, and wouldn’t be coming back for a while. Halise was torn about pranking him. She knew he had a lot on his mind, but maybe something harmless wouldn’t bother him too much.

“Right, General Uptight is gone,” Sera whispered. “So, what do we do in here to make your Cullen look like people and give your soldiers a laugh?”

“Well he’s at his desk all day so—”

“Maker, that’s perfect! Center of the Empire and all that!” Sera interrupted. It was okay, Halise didn’t really have any ideas anyway. “Okay, the thing looks heavy, so we don’t want to move or break it. Hmm. Oh! I got it! Easy one, this.”

Sera grabbed a crumpled up piece of paper with words written in a shaky hand and crossed out all over it. She carefully folded it four times, just enough to make it a little fat. “Just a _little_ slip of something under here,” Sera muttered as she slid the paper under the foot of Cullen’s desk.

“There!” She marveled at her masterpiece, and Halise couldn’t help but giggle at the pride Sera took in her work. “Won’t notice much, but it’s just that little bit wonky. He’s so in control that’ll piss him royally!”

“I have no doubt.” Halise grinned as they ran out of Cullen’s office. She would come back when he was done with the soldiers just to see before she told him about the paper. She didn’t want to upset him too much.

But it was funny when she walked in to see him wandering around his office turning over everything mumbling about knowing Sera did something and how he would do something back to her.

“Paper,” Halise said, smile playing at her lips.

“What?” He turned to her. It was only then she noticed the sweat all over his face. His demeanor was not nearly as amusing in that moment. Halise began to worry about him.

“She put a piece of paper under the foot of your desk.” No more smile.

Cullen stomped over to his desk, lifting it with more ease than she would have expected. He pulled the folded paper out and dropped the desk, letting reports, ink wells, and various other bric-a-brac clatter and fall. He moved to the small window behind his desk and threw the little paper out with all the force he could muster, panting as he watched it fly into the valley below.

Halise walked toward him, her brow furrowed. “Are you alright? You seem—”

“Agitated? Distraught? Out of sorts? What?” Cullen snapped. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke, then moved his hand to the back of his neck.

“Yes. All of those things. What’s going on?” She moved closer.

“Nothing. I have a lot of work to do and I do not need some _elf_ flitting in and out of here distracting me!”

That hurt. Halise was pretty sure he meant Sera, but he was careless with his words. She felt the simultaneous sting and bluntness of his tone like a kick in the chest and reacted. “Fine. This _elf_ is leaving. I won’t be distracting you anymore.” She made for the door, displaying as much anger as she could in her stride.

“No, wait! I didn’t mean—”

Halise slammed the door before he could finish. She hadn’t known him to be a cruel or thoughtless person, but what he just said was both. Even if he didn’t mean her, she still thought he needed some time to cool off. She stomped her way past Solas and his painting in the rotunda, and marched straight to her quarters. When she got into her room, she slammed herself onto her bed and grabbed up a pillow to squeeze and abuse.

_Stupid man_ , she thought as she punched the innocent sack of feathers. _Stupid Cullen_.

*****

Halise met with Cullen only in the war room during meetings for the next few days. He looked worse every time she saw him. The circles under his eyes grew darker, and his ordinarily golden pallor faded to a sickly shade of pale, color having left his lips and cheeks. She wasn’t sure what was wrong, but needed to find out.

One evening, after a particularly long meeting in which Cullen had several outbursts and slammed his fists into the war table, Halise marched into his office. To her surprise, only a scout stood there, and she looked like she was about to walk out.

The scout gave Halise a salute. “Inquisitor, if you’re looking for the Commander, he’s gone to speak with Seeker Pentaghast in the armory.”

Halise was surprised at the entire situation, and curious why there was a scout in Cullen’s office waiting to tell her that. “Thank you,” she said as she walked out the door toward the armory.

When she walked in, she saw Cullen and Cassandra arguing.

“You asked for my opinion, and I’ve given it,” Cassandra said sternly as she folded her arms. “Why would you expect it to change?”

“I expect you to keep your word,” Cullen growled. He threw his hand into the air in a gesture of futility. “It’s relentless! I can’t—”

“You give yourself too little credit.”

“If I’m unable to fulfill what vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this!” He pinched the bridge of his nose, as Halise had seen him doing more and more lately. Then he scowled at Cassandra. “Would you rather save face than admit—”

He stopped short when Halise knocked over a sword from the rack by the door, sending it clanging to the ground. She froze for a moment, embarrassed at having been caught eavesdropping, then walked toward them. She watched Cullen as she approached, and saw his stern expression melt into sorrow.

He brushed past her on his way out the door. “Forgive me,” he murmured. Halise’s head spun to watch him go, her confusion apparently evident on her face.

“And people say _I’m_ stubborn,” Cassandra scoffed. “This is ridiculous. Cullen told you that he’s no longer taking lyrium?”

“Yes, and I deeply respect his decision. I told him to take care of himself. Is he?”

“I don’t know how well,” the Seeker replied. “But I, too, respect his choice, not that he’d listen.” She paused, filling the air with a pregnant silence. “Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him. I refused. It’s not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He’s come so far.”

Shame crept into Halise’s stomach as she thought of the way she’d been treating him for the past several days. “I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad. Do you think there’s anything I can do to dissuade him from such a drastic choice?”

“If anyone could, it’s you,” Cassandra said, her expression softened for an instant, then returned to its usual firm state. She looked into the forge fire as she continued. “Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have. They are bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash—to prove to himself, and anyone who would follow suit that it’s possible. He can do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall. Talk to him. Show him that he is strong enough to stay the course.”

She ran her hand down Halise’s arm before turning to leave the armory, an odd gesture for the stony warrior. Halise knew she needed to go up to Cullen’s office as quickly as she could to speak to him, but had no idea what to say. He had comforted her at her most traumatized after Adamant, and now she was fumbling with her thoughts on returning the favor. She made up her mind to just go up there and figure it out when she saw him.

The sun had already set, and the moons crested the battlements as she walked up to Cullen’s tower. His door was open, which was unusual. He always insisted that even guards passing through during their rounds shut the doors behind them.

When she quietly stepped into his doorway, she could see him at his desk. Sweat glistened all over his pale face as he stared down at a box that Halise could only guess contained his lyrium philter. His gloved fists were pressed against the wood of the desk, the leather straining almost audibly under the power of his muscles as he clenched. Jagged breaths shredded in and out of him as his chest rose and fell heavily.

All of a sudden, Cullen roared loudly, and in one swift motion swept the box up in his hand and sent it flying toward Halise’s head. She shrieked and jumped backward just as it hit the doorway, shattering everything inside. Some of the liquid in one of the containers splattered over the front of her blue tunic. Her hand clutched her chest while she reeled with the shock.

“Maker’s breath!” he panted. “I didn’t hear you enter! I—Forgive me.” The timbre of his voice was similar to the way he said it in the armory. He hung his head over his desk.

“I-It’s okay, Cullen. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Halise stepped toward him. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

He started to step around toward her. “You don’t have to—” He grunted as his knees gave way beneath him. He caught himself before he fell, but his elbow was shaking under his weight. Halise tried to run over to him, but he waved her off before she could reach him. She pressed her lips together, praying he would explain. She wanted to understand.

“I never meant for this to interfere,” he said softly.

“Are you going to be alright?” Halise wanted so badly to hold him, to be strong for him as he had been for her.

“Yes,” he answered too quickly before sighing. “I don’t know.” He paused and began again.

“You asked some time ago what happened to Ferelden Circle. It was taken over by abominations.” His tone grew angrier as the pace of his speech quickened. “The Templars—my friends—were slaughtered.”

Cullen walked to the window behind his desk, looking out while he spoke. Halise didn’t dare move any closer. He needed to do this in his own way.

“I was tortured. They tried to break my mind and I—” He laughed cynically. “How can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve.” He turned back toward Halise. “They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Hmm? Her fear of mages ended in madness.”

Halise had never heard the sound of hatred issue from Cullen’s lips until then. Her heart was breaking for him, but she remained silent, urging him to continue.

“Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?” He was ready for her to answer.

“Of course, Cullen. It’s been horrible. You’ve suffered and watched other people suffer. Who wouldn’t understand that?” Halise ventured a step forward and rested her hands on his desk.

“But I thought this would be better,” Cullen said sadly as he wandered toward his bookshelf. His hands were pressed up against his forehead. “That I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won’t _leave me_.” The pressure in him was becoming more evident with the stress in his voice.

Cullen dropped his hands from his forehead, beginning to gesture aggressively as he paced back and forth in front of his bookshelf. “How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause.” He gritted his teeth as he continued. “I will not give less to you or to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry! I should be taking it!”

With that, he punched one of the joints of his bookshelf. He hit it with such force that the shelf bounced off the wall, and books flew off the shelves, clattering to the floor. Little bottles and trinkets rattled and toppled. It was the first time Halise felt any fear in Cullen’s presence. She hated that lyrium did this to him.

“I should be taking it,” he muttered, fist still braced against the bookshelf.

Halise worked up her nerve then. She had to stand up for him, not to him. “No, you shouldn’t.” He turned to her as she spoke. “Cullen, you’ve come this far—months without lyrium—and I know it hurts. And I know you’re scared. But I want what you want, and you want not to be tied to the Order or anyone else for some pointless addiction. You’re doing it, and you will keep doing it.”

She stepped toward him and rested her hand on his cheek. “You’re my Commander, and I can’t do this without you. But you’re more than that, and you’re more than just an ex-Templar or a former Knight-Captain or even a little boy from Honnleath. You are my strength, and I am not afraid to be yours when you need it. So I’ll be strong for you right now. Let me hold you up. You can endure this, and I won’t let you fall.”

Cullen’s expression softened. He pulled Halise to him, surrounding her with his arms. She pressed her nose into his neck and felt him nuzzle her hair. “Thank you,” he whispered against her.

“Always,” she replied. “Let’s get you up to bed. Today has been long enough. Hmm?”

“I still have work to do and I—Alright.” He yielded quickly to her plaintive gaze.

Cullen climbed the ladder to his loft while Halise followed up behind him. As she climbed, she noticed for the first time the very large hole in the ceiling. She thought to mention it, but realized that this was not the time.

He was already removing his armor when she got to the top of the ladder. Halise sat on the edge of his bed, waiting patiently for him to complete his task. He did so slowly and carefully, setting his armor on its stand almost reverently. She slid her boots off just as he finished, leaving himself in only his white tunic and breeches.

When Cullen stepped over to his bed, she laid herself in the middle, reaching out her open hand to signal that he should lie against her. He silently obeyed, laying down and turning his back to her. Halise wrapped her arm under his and pulled herself flush to his back. She threaded her other arm under his neck, and began to stroke his hair, her fingernails dragging softly against his scalp.

Cullen hummed at the sensation. “That feels nice. Thank you.”

“Happily,” she replied.

“I don’t want to be even more of a bother,” he started hesitantly, “but would-would you sing to me?”

Of course he would think he was a bother asking her to do anything, it wasn’t his way to need, but she wanted him to need her. “That’s never a bother, Cullen. There is no one I would rather sing to in all of Thedas.” She knew exactly the song, too, so she sang in almost a whisper into the back of his neck.

 

_I was a heavy heart to carry_

_My beloved was weighed down_

_My arms around his neck_

_My fingers laced a crown_

_I was a heavy heart to carry_

_But he never let me down_

_When he held me in his arms_

_My feet never touched the ground_

_My love has concrete feet_

_My love's an iron ball_

_Wrapped around your ankles_

_Over the waterfall_

_I'm so heavy, heavy_

_Heavy in your arms_

_I'm so heavy, heavy_

_So heavy in your arms_

 

“Neither your heart nor your body were ever heavy to me,” Cullen murmured. “And you never weighed me down. All you have ever done is lift me up. You could never be a burden to me, Halise. Not ever.”

“And who said I was talking about you? This song is for Moosh,” Halise mumbled into his hair before kissing the back of his head. He smelled like leather and oak trees, grounding her comfortably. His scent was familiar and foreign, and there was something inherently male he added to the otherwise recognizable fragrances, beguiling her.

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Oh, well in that case, please continue. The poor nug must have had to bear a terrible load.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Nah. I think he got the message.”

She continued stroking his hair until she heard his breathing even and deepen. Only once she knew he was asleep did she allow herself to rest.

_Stupid Cullen,_ _he must know how much I love him_ , she thought as she drifted off.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in this chapter were taken from Florence and the Machine's song "Heavy in Your Arms." I've already espoused my love for them, but if you haven't listened, you can click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SK6U4FiAoAs).
> 
> Also, please let me know if you're totally loving or hating this song thing. I'm going to keep doing it, but I'm planning to do it/something similar in a second fic I'm starting soon and want to know if it's working for everyone.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gettin' NSFW (somewhat) below!

“Hey!” Cullen shouted at the Orlesian tailor kneeling behind him. The primly dressed man in the silver mask just jabbed him in the upper thigh with a pin. The pain was minimal, but Cullen was already at his wits end being forced into the formal uniform Josephine had arranged for all members of the Inquisition, aside from Halise, to wear to the Winter Palace. This was meant to be the final fitting, and the little man refused every request to let out Cullen’s jacket. He felt as though the brilliant red coat would burst at the seams if he inhaled too sharply, let alone if he had to fight.

“Apologies, Commander,” the tailor remarked as he continued his work. “I was distracted by your exquisite form.”

Clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, Cullen inhaled and exhaled slowly, feeling a headache crawling around in his temples. Josephine also told him he was to be on his best behavior with the visiting tailors because the Inquisition may need more special attire the larger and more notable it became. He balled and released his fist at the idea that this man looked at him as nothing but an object to be used. Cullen was not a form to be admired, he was a person with history, desires, and needs.

For instance, he needed to be done with this fitting. “Monsieur,” he began as gently as he could with the anger pulsing within his chest, “are we nearly finished here? I have pressing matters to which I must attend.”

“One last pin right…here. Alright, Commander. If you’ll please disrobe I can make the final adjustments before your departure tomorrow.” The tailor stood and stepped back, but continued eyeing Cullen’s backside.

Everything in Cullen’s body wanted to punch the impertinent man. Everything. “I will ask you once to step out before I force you out. _Monsieur_.” Disdain dripped from his words. To the Void with Josephine’s orders! He refused to be ogled in his own office.

The Orlesian was unfazed. “As you wish, Ser. Please do be careful with the pins when you remove the garments. If they come loose, we shall be forced to do this _all_ over again.” He closed the door gently behind him upon his exit.

Despite his ire, Cullen obeyed the tailor’s instructions, if only because of his deep-seated wish never to have to endure the process again. There would be no training today in light of their departure the following afternoon, so he donned only his breeches and a burgundy tunic before exiting his office. He thrust the pinned up uniform into the tailor’s hands as he made his way toward the main hall.

He wanted to see Halise once more before all turned to chaos around them again. Her smile would ease him, set him to rights. When he walked through the rotunda, Solas was completing his final fitting as well. His face did not display the same irritation as Cullen’s had, however, as he bore no expression while holding his arms out straight for his tailor to stick pins in his armpits. Cullen would never understand how the elf maintained such constant composure, and he thought _he_ was a master of the emotionless stare. But that was less and less the case as the lyrium left his body, he supposed.

As Cullen reached Halise’s door, he heard a commotion coming from inside her quarters. Numerous voices shouted and laughed within. He attempted to open the door, but was met with the sort of floppy resistance of a person pressed against the wood.

“Ey!” he heard Sera shout from the other side, before the shuffling sound of her standing. He crossed his arms while he waited for her to open the door. When she did finally open it, it was only by a sliver so she could peek out.

“Oh look, it’s Commander Fancy Breeches! Right, what do you want?” Never one to mince words.

“I came to speak to the Inquisitor, Sera. So, if you’ll just let me in—”

“No can do, General Fuzzy Shoulders. She getting her dress done up proper for the _big fancy_ party,” she preened. “No boys allowed!”

Right on cue, Dorian’s laughter rang through the room and out the door into Cullen’s ears. He eyed Sera, unamused.

“’Cept Dorian, of course. But he doesn’t count! He’s frilly.” Cullen’s face went unchanged. Sera squinted at him critically. “Right, fine hold on.”

She shut the door, leaving him to listen to the ruckus and rustling caused by her announcement of his presence. He felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe he should come back later?

Just as he steeled himself to leave, the door opened once more, wider this time. Leliana stood on the other side, mischievous smirk curling her lips.

“Commander, the Inquisitor was just in the middle of her final fitting. We offered to allow you in while she wore the dress, but she prefers that you not see it until the ball,” she said slyly.

“Well then, I’ll just come back when her fitting is finished.” He turned to go back to his office.

“Oh no, Commander,” Leliana chided. “She asked that we allow you in.” She stepped aside motioning with a sweeping movement of her arm for him to enter.

He regarded the spymaster suspiciously as he walked past her, and her smirk evolved into a full smile. The room was full of women, and Dorian. Everyone had a wine glass, all of them sat facing the same direction. Sera had hopped into Dorian’s lap and they were calling each other a series of increasingly mean names while grinning mercilessly. Cassandra had taken a place against the wall. Josephine and Vivienne were seated next to each other. Vivienne looked at Cullen in her usual peculiar way, a blend of disgust, respect, happiness, and anger tainted her expression. He could never figure out what she was thinking, which he assumed was by design. Then he turned around to look in the same direction all of them had been.

All of the air immediately left his body. Halise stood near her balcony window wrapped in a bed sheet that she held up with her right hand. The white cloth pooled around her feet where she stood. Her shoulders, arms, and neck were bare, save for her hair resting on her chest and down her back. At first, she maintained a visage of observant serenity, tilting her head slightly as she watched him. She gave a soft curtsey, holding out the sheet with her free hand before straightening her back to stand almost regally before him.

Without warning, a wide grin spread across her lips. She puffed out a small laugh before settling herself and speaking. “Hello, Cullen. Was there something you wished to speak to me about?” Her tone was coy.

“Ah—Yes. I came to see you. To speak to you. About—ah—finalizing the troop numbers for the journey tomorrow.” His hand instinctively drew up to rub the back of his neck.

“I believe,” she started delicately, “that is a matter I would be pleased to discuss with you in an hour. We have almost completed our task, difficult as it has been, and we would all be pleased to see it through to the end.”

She was practicing. He had completely forgotten that Halise would be forcibly embroiled in the asinine “Game” when they reached the Winter Palace. He had interrupted, and would just as soon not hear her speak to him with such a studied air. Anger rose up in his gut at the thought of her being made to quell her natural joy for the pack of cynical so-called nobles in Orlais.

“I apologize most sincerely for the interruption, Inquisitor,” he replied curtly with a bow. “If you would be so kind as to meet with me in the war room in an hour, I wish to finalize our troop numbers.”

Hurt crossed over her face in a flash before her fingers brushed along her brow, and she regained her composure. He shouldn’t have done that. It was unfair to point his anger at her when she was being thrust headlong into the vicious subterfuge almost as unwillingly as he was.

“My apologies,” he said, more sincerely.

“Of course, Cullen. I will meet you in an hour.”

He left the room feeling terribly foolish and mean-spirited. That had not gone how he planned.

*****

Cullen thought he would pace a hole in the floor of the war room waiting for Halise to meet him. Different apologies rattled through his frazzled mind, and he rehearsed all the ways he could think to say he was sorry for his attitude in her quarters. He felt worse knowing that she was only trying to help the Inquisition by practicing. She had to, lest she be torn apart at the Winter Palace.

When the door finally opened, Cullen’s nerves were completely frayed. He turned to see Halise, back in her rich blue tunic, locking the door behind her. His stomach turned to ice. Surely she was locking the door because she didn’t want anyone to walk in on her chastising him for the way he spoke to her. It was insubordinate at best, cruel at worst.

Halise turned to face him, chewing on the inside of her lip. Everything he had rehearsed flew from his mind, leaving him speechless in her presence. Unable remember his apology, he turned his gaze from her.

“Halise, I—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted. He looked back up at her, but her face was unreadable. Practice was going better than any of them could have hoped.

She strode toward him purposefully, arms, hair, and hips swaying in equal measure. Upon reaching him, Halise slid her hand up his chest, fastening it around the back of his neck. Her thumb skimmed across his throat and along his jaw before she secured it with her other fingers. Looking up at him with parted lips, their ragged breaths mixing between them, Halise crept up onto her toes to grace his lips with a delicate kiss.

Kiss completed, she lightly brushed her cheek along his, moving toward his ear. The sensation of her soft skin made him shiver. He could feel her plush lips on the edge of his ear as she spoke in a low voice.

“I’m sorry, too. It’s alright. We’re alright.”

Halise drew herself back, maintaining a scant two inches between them as she looked up into his eyes. Cullen could see that she was seeking confirmation from him. She needed to know he thought they were okay. Rather than say another word, he roughly pressed his lips to hers, drawing a surprised moan from her throat.

Cullen could feel her straining to continue standing on her toes, so he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, lifting her to his height as they kissed. Halise hung there for only a moment before encircling him with her legs. He let his hand slip from her waist down to cup her ass, holding her to him as closely as he could.

Their kisses deepened, lips and tongues crashing, weaving a complex tapestry against one another. Cullen pulled away from her for a moment, studying the darkened maelstrom in her brilliant green eyes before letting his gaze wander to her slick, kiss-swollen lips. Hunger for her filled him, so he rushed to work with his teeth, tongue, and lips against her neck, eliciting a vocal gasp from her with his intensity. He wanted to devour her, to feel the warmth of her living in him. Anything to be closer to her.

As he stroked the scar on her neck, which had healed into a thin white line on her already pale skin, her right hand left its position tangled in the back of his hair. He felt her drag her fingernails down his chest and stomach, making him shudder and sigh against her. Then he felt Halise tugging at his tunic and trying to shift against him, but her legs were wrapped around the shirt, preventing her from loosening it.

She growled into his ear, “Get this fucking thing off.”

He could not have been more thrilled at the sound of those words. “As you command,” he rumbled, lips brushing the soft skin of her neck as he spoke. He relished the shiver he caused.

With that, Cullen walked them to the war table. He crouched just a bit, removing his hand from underneath Halise as he set her down on a particularly inactive part of northwestern Ferelden. He couldn’t very well remove his tunic with her legs still wrapped around it, so he pushed her back from the edge of the table, then reached behind him to untangle her legs. She whined at his movement, and he gave her a look of warning as he continued his work.

Once he completed his task, he maintained a firm grip on her calves. He kneeled between her legs as he released them, watching her eyes follow him, just as enrapt with his movements as he was with hers. When Cullen stood, Halise tried to close her legs in the empty space he left. A growl rose from deep in his chest, and he swiftly grabbed her thighs and pulled them back apart. She gasped and gripped the edge of the table, turning her knuckles bone white.

He reached behind his back, grasping and pulling his shirt over his head and freeing his arms with one swift motion. Halise’s breasts rose and fell heavily and rapidly at his newly exposed skin and musculature. His form. He briefly recalled his indigence with the tailor for using that term, yet knowing Halise was the one admiring his form, panting at the sight of him, he found no fault with the word, or the idea.

Cullen rushed back between her legs, once again biting and kissing her neck and ear. She ran her fingers up his muscled back, clutching at his shoulders while she moaned. His cock had hardened and was pressing against her heat, two pairs of breeches and smallclothes separating them. Her nails dug into him and he felt a small shock when he rolled his hips into her lightly. Clearly she could still feel him.

Like Halise, Cullen needed less clothing involved right then. Her tunic was loose, making it very easy to remove. He very nearly ripped it off her in his desperation, but was piqued when he saw her breastband holding her back from him.

At first, he attempted to undo the band, but it was wound tightly around her and he couldn’t find the end of the fabric to begin untying her. Incensed by the impediment created by such an insignificant piece of cloth, Cullen gripped the band with both hands at Halise’s cleavage. With one brisk move and a grunt, he rended the cloth apart with a loud rip, allowing Halise’s breasts to spill forth. She inhaled sharply, hissing through her teeth.

Halise threw back her head, humming as his mouth moved down her body. Cullen painted a trail from her neck to her breast, stopping only when her breath hitched in her throat, just over her beautifully taught nipple. He flicked his tongue across before drawing it into his mouth.

“Sathan, vhenan!” she panted.

He looked up at her face, noting the graceful curve of her as she watched him. She seemed to realize that she said something he didn’t understand. “It—ah—it means ‘please,’” she said, chewing on the inside of her lip. He could sense she was holding something back, but he wouldn’t push her.

He would, however, feel as much of her as he could. Cullen yearned so badly to be inside her, but felt she deserved much more attention before that. Continuing to lavish her breasts with attention, he slid his hand down to the laces of Halise’s breeches, untying them with a single well-placed tug.

To better position himself, he moved back up to her lips, kissing her deeply as he slid his hand into her breaches and under her smallclothes. Halise groaned into his mouth when his fingers ground against her slickness. Maker's breath, she was so wet. His other hand held her upright, braced firmly between her shoulder blades.

Cullen slowly rubbed and circled her folds. He could feel her shaking hard against him, breasts heaving with her labored breathing. When he slid his middle finger into her, she tore her mouth from his, crying out loudly. Her whole body tensed, nails once again digging into his back. Halise buried her face in his neck as he worked inside her. He hooked his finger seeking, then finding, the tender spot within her core. Her strangled moans and jagged breaths were hot and damp against his neck, intensifying his own arousal, and the fervor with which he pushed into her.

Three loud knocks shattered everything in an instant.

“Fuck,” Cullen groaned.

Still panting, Halise looked into his eyes with a pleading stare. “Maybe—Maybe it’s nothing,” she whispered.

“Yes? What is it?” she called toward the door, which Cullen was overwhelmingly relieved was in one piece and locked this time.

Josephine’s voice chimed through the thick wood, “I sincerely apologize for interrupting your…meeting with the Commander, Halise. However, a very urgent matter has arisen regarding the grand ball requiring your immediate attention. I am truly sorry.” Sincerity flooded Josephine’s voice.

Even as the ambassador was still speaking, Cullen extricated himself from inside Halise and helped her stand. He picked both of their shirts up from the floor, and grabbed what was left of Halise’s breastband.

“I’ll be out in just a moment, Josie,” Halise called back, running her fingers across her brow in irritation. “Fuck—fuckity shitfuck!” she hissed quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’ve a great many pressing demands on your time. Admittedly, I hope we can break the pattern soon.” Cullen handed her tunic to her, then held out the ripped band. She pressed her lips together before grinning widely at him.

“You can keep that,” she giggled.

Cullen felt heat rise to his cheeks as he thought about the sound she made when he ripped it off her. He allowed a chuckle to escape, causing Halise’s grin to grow even wider as she pulled her tunic back over her head. He was grateful it was loose, any tighter and the nakedness underneath would be obvious to even the most casual glance.

He put his shirt on as she began to step toward the door. Feeling an even greater need to speak than he felt to sheathe himself within her, he grabbed her wrist before she got too far away.

“Just a moment,” he breathed. “You have to—I must tell you something before you go.”

Halise turned back toward him, a look of adoration adorning her features. Cullen’s heart skipped and stuttered in his chest. She stepped back toward him, pulling him to rest his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” she cooed, looking deeply into his eyes.

He was certain his heart stopped completely in that moment. She said that. She said it to him. There were no games or mocking tones in her voice. She said it and meant it.

“I love you, too,” he replied. “I love you so much.” He placed his finger under her chin, drawing her mouth to his for a tender kiss.

Halise ran her palm down Cullen’s cheek as she moved from him toward the door once more. _She loves me_ , he thought. _We’re in love._ He watched her open the door and exit the room, already speaking to Josephine.

His chest felt full. It was the first time he had heard those words from anyone he wasn’t related to. Emotion flew about within him, releasing his cares about the interruption. There would be other opportunities. They were in love, after all.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	28. Chapter 28

“Hey,” Halise softly said to Josephine, who was seated across from her in their carriage. “Are you sure I look alright? I’m really excited, but I’m feeling a bit…exposed.”

She was referring to her dress, which she loved, but really did leave her somewhat more revealed than she was accustomed to, despite wearing a mask. She was experiencing a lot of firsts in that moment. It was her first time in a fancy dress, her first time in a mask, her first time in a carriage, her first time wearing jewelry, and her first ball.

“You look beautiful,” Josephine replied, her rolling accent making every syllable sound prettier and more refined. “We made sure to design this dress with dozens of considerations in mind. It accentuates your beauty, displays your ‘wild’ nature—as the nobility have unfortunately been heard describing it—and it will allow you to change into your armor if necessary. Incidentally, do not forget that your armor and weapons are—”

“In the wooden barrels marked with the red lettering, right?” Halise was proud of herself for remembering so much of what she had gone over with Josephine, Leliana, and Vivienne.

“Correct.” Josephine smiled. She looked lovely in the red, blue, and gold Inquisition uniform, even though Halise knew she wished she could have worn a gown. But propriety dictated her wardrobe for the evening. Even though she couldn’t control it, Halise felt guilty for that.

“When we arrive and exit the carriage, Cullen will be there to take your hand and lead you out. It will display the Inquisition’s strength to have the Commander physically supporting the Inquisitor.”

Halise’s pulse quickened at the thought of Cullen being the first to see her, joy overcoming her expression. “Then I mingle in the courtyard before entering the ballroom for my announcement. I approach Celene alone, curtsey, and mingle some more before dancing begins.”

“Perfect!” Josephine seemed pleased with her, and Halise genuinely wanted to keep her content throughout the evening. She knew it wasn’t often that Josephine got to flex her diplomatic muscle up close and personal, and even though Halise didn’t understand why she enjoyed it so much, she wanted to make sure Josephine had fun playing the Game.

Their carriage slowed as they approached the gates of the palace, the back and forth rocking becoming more pronounced. Halise took her final opportunity to look out the little window and be amazed at the grandeur before they came to a stop. The palace was massive, stretching what seemed like a mile in every direction. Torches and candles lit the shrubbery and walkways, though the moons lit the gardens spectacularly on their own. Green, white, and gold, coupled with the orange fire glittered in the night. Topiaries and fountains dotted the scenery, leading up to a grand staircase, which presumably met with the entrance to the vestibule.

When the carriage stopped, Halise took as deep a breath as she could in her gown, and wiped the childish smile from her face. It was frowned upon to show such unbridled emotion among the nobles. When Josephine told her that, she wondered how they lived their whole lives without letting it out. Joy, anger, sorrow, fear, all desperately had to escape Halise’s body quickly, or they threatened to swallow her.

The carriage rocked a final time as the driver climbed down from his seat to open the door. It would be fine. Cullen was right there. He would keep her grounded—remind her why she was doing this, besides getting to wear a ball gown.

The door opened, flooding the cabin with sounds of laughter and music. Halise struggled not to smile widely. Josephine exited first, with a soldier—Dolan, was it?—to help her step out. Then Halise moved to the opening.

She saw Cullen’s hand, gloved in a golden-toned leather, before the rest of him. She reached out, clutching almost desperately at him while attempting to make the grasp appear demure and unnecessary. Moving carefully so as not to get caught up in the dress or fall, she stepped out.

Upon facing Cullen, she noted how dashing he looked in his formal Inquisition uniform. The red of the coat and blue of the sash were striking against his skin, and the gold accents set off his hair and eyes. He very nearly glowed. The entire uniform was cut very closely against him, his build and power evident with every move. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Then she saw the way he looked at her, top to bottom with his lips parted and chest moving heavily. It thrilled her. Her long wavy spirals were mostly still loose, but a few strands were pulled back from her face, letting her mask be seen in its entirety. The mask was intended as an homage to her Dalish background, a delicate metal gold leaf pattern crossing under her brow and over her cheekbones, creating the appearance she was watching everyone through a gilded forest. Her lips were painted a bright red, a sharp contrast to her ivory skin. Leliana had acquired a gold necklace with a large sapphire hanging from it that now dangled just at the top of Halise’s cleavage.

Her dress was bold and vivid. The neckline circled below her shoulders, exposing the vallaslin on her back when her hair moved. The front mirrored the vallaslin on her forehead, the twisted swirling pattern covering her breasts, but a deep opening cut almost to the bottom of Halise’s sternum. In the center, her pale breasts remained quite exposed, her every breath visible to anyone as they pushed and strained against the fabric. The bodice was a brilliant gold brocade corset, extending down to the middle of her hip and laced up tightly at her back, hugging every curve of her, but Josephine also had the tailor put a column of hidden clasps at her side so she could more easily change into her armor if necessary. The sleeves and skirt were made of brilliant azure chiffon and organza, layered to create a shimmering illusion when she moved. The slippers on her feet were gold with a leaf pattern similar to that of her mask embroidered on them.

Halise’s legs trembled at the raging fire behind Cullen’s eyes when he looked at her. She had been right not to let him see the gown until now. Their love and passion sparked openly between them for a moment before Halise realized that everyone was watching. She flicked her eyes toward the gate to draw Cullen’s attention back to the task at hand.

“Ah—Inquisitor,” he said before bowing to brush his lips across her knuckles, sending a rush from her core up her spine. Upon standing, he crooked his arm for her to hold, and she snaked hers through as he asked, “Shall we?”

“Of course,” she replied gingerly, fracturing internally at not being allowed to smile at him, kiss him, or even lace her fingers through his.

Cullen walked with her arm in arm through the elaborate gates into the garden. Halise practically vibrated from the combined excitement of the grandeur and her desire to press herself to Cullen’s body and run to a private room in the guest wing of the palace. Ignoring the gala was not, however, a viable option, and Halise resisted the urge to pout, choosing instead to attempt a deep breath. The motion drew Cullen’s attention to her breasts, pressed against the overtaxed fabric of her bodice. She watched him clench and release his jaw several times, undoubtedly feeling turmoil identical to Halise’s.

They had been issued strict instructions to part ways upon reaching the inner courtyard, though both protested when Josephine made her decree. When they crossed into the courtyard, Cullen bowed and eased a kiss onto Halise’s knuckles. He squeezed her fingers and looked into her eyes before turning to make his way inside. Trying very hard not to watch him go or let her sudden aloneness overwhelm her, she turned toward the nearest noble she could find, attempting to mingle.

The nobility was unpleasant toward her, to say the very least. Masked men and women utilized her ignorance of their identities and their anonymity to whisper insults about her Dalish and Elvhen heritage. It wasn’t the first time she had heard such things, but in her exposed state she felt much more vulnerable. She managed to endear herself to a woman named Montbelliard, who had somehow lost her ring a mere three feet from where she stood. But the rest of the people she attempted to “mingle” with were not so easily won over.

During practice for the Game, Leliana had strongly suggested that Halise use her sexuality to appeal to the courtiers. Some of the nobility fetishized elves, and eliciting their desire for her would be a fast way to captivate them and make them more susceptible to suggestion. While talking with group after group, Halise stretched and bared her neck and toyed with the sapphire pendant at her bosom, leaning forward when she laughed lightly at the awful jokes being awkwardly thrust at her. Her actions managed to garner her some positive favor, if it could be deemed such in light of the near drooling state of some of the men and women she left in her wake. She felt hot shame in the pit of her stomach every time she sexualized herself for their approval, suddenly glad Cullen wasn’t there to see her behavior.

Josephine had warned that Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, Empress Celene’s cousin and possibly the person plotting her assassination, would want to speak to Halise before entering the palace. Gaspard had invited the Inquisition as his guests, allowing Halise access and the potential to stop the assassination, however, which made Halise less suspicious of him. Though it all could have been a ploy to make him look innocent.

Gaspard was waiting for Halise near the stairwell, and gave a deep bow when she approached him. She stood as straight as she could, allowing only the faintest of smiles to pass over her lips before holding out her hand for the kiss she knew he had to place there. Once the formalities were over, Gaspard launched into a discussion about his rightful claim to the throne and the potential for an alliance with the Inquisition when he took his place as the Emperor of Orlais. Halise replied noncommittally with the studied coyness she rehearsed. As a Chevalier, he was blunter than the other players of the game, certainly, but she couldn’t let her guard down for anyone. He also “warned” her about Briala, an elf and Celene’s rumored former lover, as a threat to the peace talks, noting that her spies were all over the palace. He bowed once more before heading up the stairs. Halise allowed herself to nibble subtly on the inside of her lip when no one was looking.

Finally, she made her way inside the palace doors into the vestibule. The interior was just as grand as the exterior. The room was lit with large golden chandeliers and candelabras. The light glinted off the shiny marble floor, casting up against the blue drapery hanging from the bannisters and in between the massive white columns. An expansive rug lined the path from the outer door up the stairs to the door for the ballroom, muting the delicate click of Halise’s slippers as she ascended.

Two ornately adorned men bowed to her as they opened the door to the ballroom. Halise had to tamp down her expression of awe at the magnificence of the place. It was an even larger and more heavily decorated version of the vestibule, with a dance floor sunken into the center of the room. Another man, clad similarly to those who had opened the door, held out his arm for her, then led her to the steps onto the dancefloor for her announcement. Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana were already waiting there. Halise’s heart thumped in her chest as she cast a glance at them. So much depended on her poise in the next few moments. So many lives hung in the balance.

Halise clenched her jaw and checked her posture before moving forward. The herald—Ha.—announced her much more reverently than she had heard in Redcliffe, proclaiming her accomplishments is a somewhat skewed way. He said she was the vanquisher of the rebel mages and the crusher of the vile apostates, but she didn’t vanquish or crush anyone, she helped and freed them. The twisted announcement, along with the use of the term “Champion of the Blessed Andraste,” knotted Halise’s stomach as she walked, though she remained careful not to show her displeasure.

Then he announced her advisors. Cullen was first, and Halise heard his middle name, Stanton, for the first time. Cullen Stanton Rutherford. It sounded oddly royal for a farmer’s son from Honnleath, but it suited him. It was steady and firm, much like he was. She wanted to turn and look at him as he walked up behind her, her only solace the sound of his boots walking up and stopping several feet behind her. Then came Leliana, then Josephine, whose newly discovered middle name was Cherette.

Celene and another woman—who Halise would come to discover was Gaspard’s sister, Grand Duchess Florianne—approached the railing to welcome the Inquisition. Halise curtseyed deeply and gracefully, praying to every god that had ever existed that her breasts would not burst free of the confines of her dress. The Empress was gracious, if a bit dismissive, when Halise remarked on the potential harm that could come, thinly veiled by a comment about the weather. A few more pleasantries were exchanged before the Empress took her leave, retreating to some unknown room.

When the introductions were finished, Halise realized she was alone on the landing, her companions having scattered about the room during her brief discussion with Celene. Halise scanned the upper terrace for her friends, spotting Sera and Blackwall scowling outwardly as they muttered to each other. Then she saw Vivienne addressing an enrapt group of nobles. Iron Bull and Dorian had managed to situate themselves very close to the food and alcohol. Varric was surrounded by adoring fans holding copies of “Hard in Hightown,” apparently telling a hilarious story. Solas and Cole lurked in a corner at the far end of the room. Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine, along with a fourth woman who bore a strong resemblance to Josephine, hovered along the railing, chatting as they looked down at the dance floor.

Then she saw Cullen. His back was pressed against a wall, and he very nearly clutched a table to his side. Men and women surrounded him in every other direction. They ran their fingers down his arms and batted their eyelashes at him. His face was stern, angry even. Halise wanted to run to the group surrounding him and start swinging, but she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she crossed toward the food and drinks on the side of the terrace opposite Cullen, watching him as she walked. Worry swirled in her chest as she moved gracefully along, passing nobles that sounded slightly more impressed by her presence and air than those she had encountered outside.

Upon her arrival at the refreshments, Dorian and Bull were engaged in a humorous argument about which of them was more despised at court. “Oh, come now Bull. Who could hate a Qunari mercenary more than an evil, spooky Tevinter?” Dorian professed.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Bull retorted. “You could hide in plain sight if you stopped being so obvious all the time. I’ll stand out no matter what I do. Also, I have horns.”

Halise picked up a small plate with a tiny cake on it as she listened to their back and forth. She bit into the dark brown, sugary pastry very gingerly, intending to chew subtly and move on. Her eyes widened when she tasted the luscious, velvety flavors washing over her tongue. “Mmm!” she moaned unintentionally. Fortunately, the sound was only loud enough for Dorian and Bull to hear, and wouldn’t ruin her carefully constructed façade.

Dorian turned to her with a sly grin. “Why Inquisitor, how very undignified of you to make such vulgar noises in the presence of this regal company,” he quietly exclaimed.

“I could stand to hear more,” Iron Bull added with a smirk.

“Oh stop,” she chided. “I was simply remarking on how appropriately delicious the food is on such a lauded occasion.” She took a step closer to them and leaned in before whispering, “I need you both to bring these little cake things to me all night. Take turns or however you have to do it to stay inconspicuous, just feed me these until I pop!”

Dorian waggled his finger, gesturing to both her breasts. “My dear Halise, you are threatening to pop already.”

“Oh ha,” Halise snarked, “Because my boobs are all squished up and out of this dress. Lovely, Dorian.”

He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing servant, holding it up towards Halise. “I do try, my sweet.”

“Don’t let him bother you, boss,” Bull interjected as Dorian took a sip from his glass. “Your breasts look immaculate this evening.” She had to suppress an eye roll and a giggling fit when he crossed his arms and smiled widely at her.

“Gee, Bull, thanks?”

“Any time, boss.”

Halise took that opportunity to glance in Cullen’s direction again. Even more people were crowded around him than before, blocking almost her entire view of him. Dorian’s eyes followed her gaze.

“I do believe our handsome Commander needs rescuing before he is devoured by randy Orlesian nobles,” he said.

“And I am going to head over there and see to it that doesn’t happen,” Halise replied, beginning to move away from them. She turned her head back to them before getting out of earshot and murmured, “Don’t forget to bring me cakes!”

Dorian bowed and Iron Bull nodded at her as she walked toward Cullen. Halise could see the woman standing directly in front of him reaching out and stroking his chest. Anger clouded her mind for the briefest moment, causing her to move a little faster. She could hear them talking to him.

“So, Commander,” the woman purred, “are you married?”

“No, but I am…taken,” he replied with an edge to his voice. Halise felt a smug satisfaction for a moment.

“So, single,” the woman retorted matter-of-factly.

That was quite enough. Halise made her way to the outer edge of the group surrounding Cullen, clearing her throat to get their attention so they would move, then smiling almost sardonically as they turned to see her. Just when she made her way through the rabid pack of nobles, she saw a Marquis with his hand on Cullen’s backside. She screamed internally, her urge to throttle the man until she saw the life leave his eyes very nearly overtaking her.

In spite of that, she managed to gently place her hand on the Marquis’s wrist. “Now now, Marquis,” she chided coyly as she slid the man’s hand away from Cullen’s buttock, “I’m afraid that will have to wait. A very pressing matter has come to my attention, and I need to confer with my Commander.”

She turned her attention to Cullen’s eyes. The heat of rage and the chill of anxiety flew simultaneously from his gaze. “Commander, would you please escort me to the balcony so that we may discuss business? Only for a moment I assure you,” she said, turning to the ravenous nobles.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” Cullen replied. He hooked his arm as he had when they entered the front gates, and again Halise threaded her arm through his.

They walked at an almost leisurely pace until they were out of view of nearly everyone. Then they turned out onto an unoccupied balcony. Once outside, Cullen tossed his head in every direction, verifying that they were completely alone. When he was satisfied as to their solitude, he turned his full attention to Halise, his eyes burning into her skin.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

She smiled tenderly at him. “You’re welco—ahh!” Before Halise could finish, Cullen grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into him. He clutched her tightly to him, his hand winding itself into her loose hair. She could feel his body trembling against her as she held onto his biceps, the fabric of his coat struggling against his strength.

As she was about to ask him what was wrong, he pulled down on her hair, almost too roughly, bending and exposing her neck to him. Cullen set upon her like a half-starved beast, biting and sucking up and down her neck and shoulder. Halise was very nearly distracted from her concern for him, but managed to weave her fingers into the back of his hair and tug him off of her before he left any marks on her pale skin.

She wrapped her fingers and palms around his jaw, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Hey,” she panted, “what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

He sighed heavily. “It’s this place,” he replied, his agitation becoming clearer. “These people. All so obsessed with their little game that they understand how to use and manipulate the people around them without a care for their lives or minds. It makes me sick to be around all of this!” he spat.

“I understand, Cullen.” Halise was trying to make her voice as calm and soothing as possible. She hated them, too, for making him feel this way. “But we knew it was going to be like this before we came here. You must know you’re terribly handsome, and these people just want a taste of you. I wouldn’t blame them, except you’re mine alone.”

Cullen smiled sorrowfully at her. “It’s just that—It’s—The torture I suffered in the Ferelden Circle—I was trapped by a desire demon.” His amber eyes darted back and forth between hers as he spoke, hands maintaining a tight grip on her waist. “It invaded my thoughts and used them to touch me, to toy with me. All these hands on me—I can only feel that _thing_ when these people touch me. I only hear its voice when they speak. Being here is like reliving that nightmare. But you’re the only thing stopping me from going mad. I know you’re real, and I—I need you.”

Halise’s heart ached and fragmented for him. She knew Cullen had been tortured, but she never truly understood what happened. His explanations were always so vague, and she refused to push him on the subject. Yet this was the first time she knew she could not provide him with all of the comfort he needed. Tonight she had to be the Inquisitor. People were depending on her. She could not fail.

She choked back the tears pricking at her eyes, swallowing thickly. “I love you, Cullen. I love you, alright?” She dipped her head to make sure their eyes were locked, her brow creased under her mask. “But I can’t stay here. I have—” Her voice cracked. “I have to go back in there and stop this assassination. I want you to stay with Dorian and Iron Bull. They’ll keep these animals away from you until I can come back to you, okay? I will come back to you.”

Cullen nodded slightly and sighed through his nose. “Alright. I love you.”

“I should also tell you, each of them may leave you periodically in order to bring me tiny cakes,” she said seriously.

A chuckle rumbled up from deep in Cullen’s chest. At the same time, a lone tear trickled down his cheek. Halise ran her thumb under his eye, sweeping the tear away, before kissing him softly. She huffed out a small laugh when she saw the red stain she left on his lips, waffling for several seconds over whether she would wipe it off or leave it as a mark to warn off the horde. Ultimately, she used her thumb to erase the remnants of their contact, swiping it across his lips several times before she was satisfied.

She slid her hands down his arms to untangle his hands from behind her back while she rested her forehead against his. “If you start to get anxious again tonight, remember that I love you, and I need you just as much as you need me.”

“You couldn’t possibly,” he smiled, “but I love you, too.”

With that she pulled her shoulders back, squared her posture, and walked back into the ballroom. After a few minutes had passed, she glanced toward Iron Bull and Dorian, seeing Cullen standing with them. Dorian was fussing over Cullen’s sash, which Bull had apparently mussed when he tossed his arm over Cullen’s shoulder. Halise took a deep breath and sighed with relief. He would be alright tonight.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song! Listen along [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYQQZgU-u2s)!

“I love you.”

Halise said it to Cullen over and over, as if she needed to prove it to him because he couldn’t believe her. The strange part was, he almost couldn’t. As much as she said it, and he could feel that she meant it every time, it was still so hard for him to comprehend. Why him? Out of all of the people in her life, so many of them strapping and well-spoken and charming with less sordid histories, why him? It was a question he simply could not answer.

Even so, she loved him. Still, he understood why she had to take her leave. There were countless lives depending on her success, and once again the fate of all of Thedas rested in her pale, slim hands. Despite all that was sitting heavily on her shoulders, she still had time to think of his needs. She knew Dorian and Bull were fond of him, and that he liked them more than most people, so she thought to leave him in their company—under their strange kind of protection.

Halise had even gone as far to keep Cullen comfortable as to take Solas with her to investigate the deaths of the elven servants instead of taking Dorian. She had mentioned offhandedly once that something about Solas made her uneasy, though she liked him well enough. She took him all the same.

Just as Cullen realized that Halise had been gone almost too long, distress just beginning to slink into his mind, she reappeared at the entrance to the ballroom. The same regal air held up her head and shoulders. Her red-stained lips were parted, a fresh flush fading slowly from her cheeks. She had been fighting. Cullen swallowed heavily, his worry like a sludge, oozing its unwanted way back into his mind. He had little doubt that she was a skilled archer, capable of tackling much worse than whatever killed the elves, but he nonetheless feared for her safety and felt helpless at not being able to ensure it from this overelaborate ballroom. He fought hard against his urges, both to rush to her side and to simply rub the back of his neck to assuage his concern. Either could be perceived as signs of weakness in this viper’s nest of a palace.

“Our dear Halise appears to have gotten into a bit of a row,” Dorian murmured. How he knew her so well was baffling to Cullen. He had only just begun to glimpse at an understanding of her subtleties.

“You think she needs our help?” Bull asked, craning his neck a bit toward Dorian.

“Now now, you enormous beast,” Dorian chided, tipping his glass toward Iron Bull, “if she needs our help, she’ll come and tell us. We must trust in her abilities, lest we ruin the reputation she has been so carefully crafting this evening.”

“He’s right,” Cullen interjected. “This _‘Game’_ is not in my wheelhouse, but I know she needs to appear strong on her own tonight. She is the Inquisitor, and can’t be seen with us running to her for fear of her safety. That would make it seem as though we think her incapable. I, for one, think nothing but the complete opposite.”

“You do know you’re not alone in that sentiment, yes?” Dorian quirked up his eyebrow at him with a lopsided grin.

Cullen turned to him with all the earnestness in his body. “I am alone in some of my sentiments toward her, I should hope.”

Bull chuckled. “I do believe that has been uncontested since even before my arrival.”

“What?” Cullen spun to face Bull, more surprise than he wanted imprinted on his face.

Dorian chimed in behind him, “Oh, come now, Cullen. The way you look at her? You’re a man besotted! Of course, like a Chantry candle, you can’t help what melts your dutifully sculpted exterior. And quite frankly, have you noticed the way she looks at you? Her big green eyes practically glow like the mark on her hand when she sees you! It’s as if she thinks the sun shines from within you.”

Cullen cheeks flushed, and he glanced at Dorian over his shoulder. “When really it shines from within her.”

“Ah, there it is, my smitten Commander. Those are the words of a man lost in love. How these Orlesian men and women thought they had even the slightest chance is completely beyond me.” Dorian’s smirk persevered through his pursed lips.

Oddly satisfied, Cullen turned his attention back toward the door of the ballroom, instantly noting Halise’s absence. Then he saw people lining the railings looking down onto the dance floor and heard whisperings of her movement there. He walked to the nearest railing, wedging himself between two Orlesian men. There she was, gliding about like a shooting star, the Duchess whirling along with her.

Halise’s tempestuous appearance was a sharp contrast to the Duchess, who appeared the picture of Orlesian extravagance and restraint. Florianne’s blonde hair was shorn short, where Halise’s was bright red and mostly free, hanging down her back as if in protest to Orlesian convention. Halise’s dress was also vivid and bright, a sharp contrast to Florianne’s muted ensemble.

Still, the sight of the two sweeping across the dance floor was an impressive one. They were both the pictures of grace, nary a hesitation or halting motion between them. But there was something so fluid about Halise’s dancing that went unmatched by the Duchess. The curve of Halise’s arms and the flex of her bare shoulder blades spoke to something natural and untrainable. True poise and elegance.

The image of Halise dancing in her nightshirt flashed through Cullen’s mind. He cleared his throat to stop the groan that rose from his chest. The thought refocused his attention on Halise’s body once more, only this time, he imagined his hands and mouth tracing the same nimble flesh he admired before.

As the song concluded, Halise gripped the slim Duchess’s waist with both hands before swinging her into a dip. She allowed the Duchess’s back to arch over her hands, arching her own back as a counterweight. Halise’s breasts pushed hard against her golden bodice, pleading to be free. The crowd of astonished onlookers gasped as Halise pulled the Duchess to her feet with the final note of the music. Both of them curtseyed before exiting the dance floor in separate directions.

Cullen’s breath sawed in and out of him. He remained at the railing until Halise had left the floor, more desirous than he had been all night to seek her out and pin her against a wall. To feel her lithe form moving and writhing against him.

Then he saw her motion with her head for Solas, Cassandra, and Cole to follow her out of the ballroom once more. Halise stopped briefly to exchange a quick word with Leliana before stepping cautiously toward the door. Just as Cullen began to feel crestfallen anew, Halise glanced furtively at him, tilting her head ever-so-slightly to hide her small surreptitious smile. The sight warmed him enough to ease his mind as he watched her exit the room, doubtless she was walking into danger once more.

“That is the look I was talking about,” Dorian said, snapping Cullen from his trance. “Besotted, I tell you.”

He was right. Cullen was lost.

*****

The rest of the night in the Winter Palace was quite eventful. Halise had burst back into the ballroom just before Florianne’s planned assassination of Celene could be carried out. Halise’s defiant posture held her up tightly while she presented her evidence and commanded several Inquisition soldiers to take the Duchess into custody as an agent of Corypheus. Not long after that, the Empress called Gaspard and Halise out of the room to conclude the peace talks.

After Celene, Gaspard, and Halise presented a united front for peace before the entirety of the audience in attendance, the nobility all but mobbed Halise. She was bombarded with requests for dances and offers of gifts, even several offers to open negotiations for marriage. The last of these made Cullen bristle, though he supposed he could understand how such an alliance could benefit the Inquisition immeasurably. He chastised himself for a moment for his selfishness in believing he could keep her to himself. But her heart was her own to give, right? The Inquisition’s power only grew with every passing day, and there could be no need for some arranged marriage. Right?

Notwithstanding Cullen’s best efforts to rejoin with Halise before the conclusion of the ball that evening, he had not been able to get a private moment with her. This left him dissatisfied as he mounted his horse to leave the ball, his certainty that he would not see or speak to her alone until they returned to Skyhold pressing at the back of his eyes while he rode.

Vivienne had either been so gracious or so homesick that she invited the Inquisition to stay the night at the Ghislain estate, which sat not far from Halamshiral. Purportedly because she believed all of the “unaccustomed rabble” would feel more comfortable, she also sent the majority of the servants away for the night, with the exception of those helping to care for the ailing Duke Ghislain. The estate was vast, with plenty of rooms for the handpicked members of the Inquisition that had travelled to the Winter Palace for the ball.

Cullen’s room was comfortable, if a bit larger than he was accustomed to. His tower was rather sizeable, but his sleeping quarters at the top of the ladder only took up about half of the tower. This room was almost as large as his entire workspace. The bed was proportional to the room, and was large and soft. He was overwrought, but couldn’t sleep just yet. He had brief reports collected from his men before they had set off from the palace, and decided to review them before he headed to bed.

He had finished most of the reports when he heard a sort of slapping-thump noise down the hall. The sound had the cadence of a person running, with the distinct tone of bare feet hitting marble. Cullen’s room wasn’t terribly far from the Duke’s room, and he suspected the health of the older man may have taken a turn, causing one of the few remaining servants to run down the hall for something to help treat him. Thus, as the foot beats approached his door, he entirely expected them to keep moving and fade with the ever expanding distance.

Except they didn’t. The clamoring footsteps culminated with the slamming open of Cullen’s door. In his shock, he jumped up from his seat, ready for a fight. But all he could see was a cloud of red hair flying through the doorway. Halise held onto the doorknob when she ran in, but her momentum and the slickness of the marble floor carried her feet out from under her body. This sent her skidding into the room, turning her body and flinging her other hand to grasp at the handle of the stiff swinging door. Within a moment, she had regained her balance, and closed the door as quietly as she could manage. Cullen wasn’t certain what the point of trying to stay quiet was at this point after her raucous approach and entrance.

Once the door was shut, Halise turned toward him, sliding her back down the wood to seat herself on the floor. Her hair had been loosed from its pins, and it hung all around her, grazing her nightshirt. Her teeth shown white through her still red-stained and parted lips as she panted. She ran her fingers across her eyebrow before clapping them over her mouth, a slow grin spreading.

“That was loud wasn’t it?” she asked, her voice muffled by her hand.

An amused smile overtook Cullen’s astonished expression. “A bit,” he responded, a laughing edge to his voice.

“Haha well, shit.” Halise let her previously curled up bare legs slide away from her a little, parting her feet. Her off-white nightshirt was hiked up to her hips, exposing her light blue smallclothes between her legs. She moved her hands from her face, and extended her arms out toward Cullen with her fingers spread apart.

 _Adorable,_ he thought as he walked over to her to help her up off the floor. Cullen grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. He didn’t miss a beat when he swiftly snaked his arms around her waist. Halise beamed brightly at him through her red lips.

“I’ve been waiting to do that all night,” she murmured.

“Do what, exactly? Nearly break my door and your nose all at once? Speaking of which, how is it you are such a graceful dancer and fighter, but always seem to nearly put an extra crack in your ass when you’re excited?” Cullen looked down at her face, feeling the warmth of her smile coursing through him.

Her grin widened incredulously. “Aha, ouch!” She lightly slapped him on the chest. “Alright well, let me answer your questions in order. One: No, I’ve been waiting all night to smile at you! And two: Dancing and fighting are easy, and have steps you can learn—tactics, if you will—but being happy can be tricky. It’s full of pitfalls and obstacles that you can’t see coming, and could never be taught how to avoid or overcome. So, I trip, and slip, and occasionally put a dent in my butt, because feeling joy is messy and unpredictable. But I wouldn’t trade it for being less clumsy, or for anything else.”

“Maker, I love you, Halise,” Cullen sighed. “I love everything about you. From your eyes, to your smile, to your heart, to your spirit, to that extra dent in your ass.” He grinned at her.

Halise giggled. “Well Cullen, I love you right back. I must confess, though, I ran in here with ulterior motives. First, I wanted to check on you. I felt terrible all night that I couldn’t keep you by my side and safe from those awful people.”

He squeezed her tightly before replying, “I’m alright. Once I settled with Bull and Dorian, things smoothed out. Although it was, admittedly, a bit disconcerting to see either of them pick up a tiny cake and walk it over to pass it to you like a secret message every twenty minutes.”

In the dead of night in a silent household, she laughed almost too loudly at that, her eyes closed and her nose crinkled. She was so beautiful. “They were so good, though! All sweet and luscious.”

“Those words could be used to describe you too,” he remarked, his desire for her growing with her warm body pressed up against him.

“The second thing I wanted,” she began, smirking at ignoring Cullen’s lascivious comment, “was to get my dance.”

“Dance?”

“Yes, dance. I was so busy all night, and I wasn’t supposed to spend too much time alone with anyone, so we didn’t get to have our dance. So I came to get it.” Halise’s tone was so matter-of fact, so certain.

A watered down shame allowed heat to suffuse over Cullen’s face. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a dancer,” he said sheepishly. “Templars never attended balls, and we weren’t exactly…instructed on dancing. The most experience I have with it is a handful of times I danced with my mother and sister, at family weddings before I was pledged to the Order.”

Sadness touched him with that memory. He hadn’t written to Mia, or Bran or Rosalie for that matter, in years. His mother died along with his father fleeing Honnleath during the Blight. For a time, he’d been too ashamed to contact his siblings, and then he couldn’t bring himself to try. What if they didn’t like the man he was?

“You know, it’s not as if the Dalish held balls in the middle of the forests of the Free Marches,” Halise replied softly, disrupting Cullen’s spiral. “You just follow your instincts. Like I said before, it’s a lot like fighting. You move your feet to one-two-three, and forget about everything else. Just don’t think about anything but moving with me.”

“Are you certain about this? I’m fairly sure Leliana will have me assassinated in my sleep if I break the Inquisitor’s toes.” She would.

Halise laughed through her nose. “I’m certain. We can even start out slow.”

She moved her right hand from where it had been resting, slipping it into Cullen’s left hand. Her slim fingers twined with his. He felt his heart racing from the contact with her, as well as his nervousness at making a complete fool of himself in front of the woman he loved. His whole body tensed under her soft touch.

“Hey,” she murmured, cocking her head to refocus his attention on her shining visage, “don’t worry so much. It’s just me.”

Cullen sighed. “I know.” That was why he was worried. He did his best to relax his body, in spite of the tension in his mind.

Before they moved at all, Halise began to hum. The melody was soothing, and looking into each other’s eyes the two began to sway. Before long, their bare feet glided across the marble in perfect sync with each other, spinning and whirling around the room. There had been no uncertain or tentative movements between them. Cullen hadn’t even needed to count. Halise’s graceful motion had simply settled within him, guiding him in how to hold her and when to move. His hand rested on the small of her back, feeling the dimples on her hips and the gentle curve of her spine through her thin nightshirt.

Halise started to sing the song she was humming.

 

_Oh I do believe_

_In all the things you see_

_What comes is better_

_Than what came before_

_And you better_

_Come come come come to me_

_Better come come come come come to me_

_Better run run run run run to me_

_Better come_

_Oh I do believe_

_In all the things you see_

_What comes is better_

_Than what came before_

_And you better_

_Run run run run to me_

_Better run run run run run to me_

_Better come come come come come to me_

_Better run_

 

When she finished, and their bodies had stilled, they continued to gaze at each other for both a moment and an eternity. Cullen didn’t feel the same wanton desire he had when she came in, but a deep and abiding affection that coursed through his veins more satisfyingly than lyrium ever could have. He wrapped his left arm around her back to join in the company of his right, and pulled her tightly to him, clinging to her as if clinging to life. Halise draped her cheek over his shoulder, resting her forehead in the crook of his neck. He could feel her eyelashes brush his skin as she closed her eyes.

They stayed like that for a while. Silent. Simply holding one another. All of this was so new to Cullen, yet it felt so familiar. So right. In those moments, he felt the impact of their lives weaving together in a way that could only be permanent, giving him the almost physical sensation that her soul and spirit were being threaded through him. She was sealed within his heart and body, and he could never be without her again.

Neither of them knew how long they remained in the embrace before Halise gently pulled back. “We’re supposed to leave pretty early tomorrow,” she mumbled. “We both deserve some sleep after the night we’ve had, and Josephine may actually kill me if I’m not in my room in the morning.” It was time for her to go.

“I wish you could stay,” Cullen replied quietly. He dropped his forehead down against hers, both of them closing their eyes. “I know I’ve said it, but I really do love you, with all my heart.”

“And I love you with every breath in my body,” Halise breathed. “Even this one.”

She rolled her forehead down against his to angle their lips into a tender kiss. The affection poured into the kiss shook Cullen to his core, renewing his faith in so many things all at once. His doubts melted away, however temporarily, and he was filled only with hope and love.

As she pulled away from him once more, she smiled at him. He noticed the exhaustion under her eyes, betrayed by dark circles. When she began to walk to the door, he followed her all the way. She turned to him a final time, standing on her tip toes to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Goodnight Cullen,” she whispered as she grasped the doorknob behind her back.

“Goodnight Halise.”

She opened the door just a crack to make sure no one was passing by or down the hall before darting out. He could hear her running barefoot back toward her room. The sound of her feet on the marble brought a smile to his lips. He hoped she didn’t have any new dents in the morning.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in this chapter were taken from Cat Power's cover of the Velvet Underground song "I Found a Reason." Admittedly, I'm not a huge fan of the VU version, which you can find [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v2_2Z2u74Tk). But, I looooove Cat Power's version, which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYQQZgU-u2s). Cat Power is an indie-voiced weird-face-making angel lady, so give her a listen if you like. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	30. Chapter 30

“I love you,” Cullen whispered to Halise just before she rode ahead of him on their way back to Skyhold, out of earshot of anyone else. She looked at him over her shoulder, chewing on the inside of her lip in advance of her wide grin.

When they had gotten half a day’s ride away from the Winter Palace for the sake of appearances, Halise was allowed to exit the carriage and get back onto Moosh for the rest of the journey home. It wouldn’t take much longer, but she preferred to feel the fresh air on her skin. Plus, she was worried Moosh had been feeling neglected lately, and she wanted to coddle her big furry battle nug with an easy ride.

Morrigan, whom Halise met for the first time at Halamshiral, had joined the Inquisition as a sort of liaison to the darker world of magic and history of what Corypheus was after. Halise resented Morrigan’s assumption that she didn’t know information about her own Elvhen culture. The woman spouted off facts and assumptions as though she thought she was an elf, which also seemed to irritate Solas—he all but snapped at her several times when she was talking about the Creators. She was also somewhat rude and condescending in other aspects of conversation. It was always Halise’s policy to try to like people, but Morrigan was making things difficult for her. Cullen had encountered her before, as well, and didn’t exactly have the kindest words for her, which didn’t help Halise’s misgivings.

It didn’t take long for the group to return. Halise and Culllen stole glances back and forth throughout the journey, and she began to feel the sneaking suspicion that everyone knew about them. Cassandra started talking about how beautiful and romantic love in the face of overwhelming odds was, nearly swooning right off her horse. Solas mentioned offhandedly that he was glad Halise seemed happy, while also reminding her to stay on task, as if she needed such a reminder. Cole kept muttering about soft things, specifically feelings, skin, and lips. Halise felt it necessary to distract him by telling him a story about a warren of rabbits that lived near one of her clan’s settlement sites. He seemed giddy after the tale, which thrilled Halise for more reasons than she originally intended.

Vivienne insisted on discussing advantageous marriage options within Orlesian nobility within earshot of Cullen, making Halise uncomfortable and somewhat angry all at once. She understood why Vivienne felt the need to talk about it, and she knew what she was doing by having the conversation so close to Cullen. She was reminding them both of their positions in society. To those on the outside looking in, though she was an elf, Halise was becoming the leader of a burgeoning world power, and Cullen’s role was meant to be as her general—her subordinate—not her equal. That was absolutely not how Halise felt about their situation, so she carefully extricated herself from the conversation by saying she would speak to Josephine about the options they had discussed. The whole thing made her nauseous. Even the idea that her desires could be overridden by the needs of the Inquisition in the face of the snide nobility was too much for her to handle after just one night among them. What would she do if forced to spend the rest of her life muted and dulled by their judgmental nature?

Varric stirred her from her thoughts when he rode up next to her in the late afternoon, just before they arrived at Skyhold, and dropped an unusually high volume of not-so-subtle hints as to his awareness of her budding relationship, including asking her what her favorite euphemisms for love were. He let her choose between “tenderness,” “adoration,” “passion,” and “worship.”

She gave her response very little thought before it spilled out of her. “I think all of those are perfect.”

“Oh?” Varric inquired, his interest clearly piqued. “Now you’ve got me curious, Torch. Do tell. Why?”

Halise answered earnestly. “Well ‘tenderness’ because it means ‘gentleness and kindness,’ and what should love be but kind, even though it’s not always so gentle. It also implies deep affection and devotion, kind of like ‘adoration’ or ‘worship.’ ‘Passion’ is an emotion that is either barely contained or uncontainable. People truly in love can rarely restrain their feelings for each other, internally that is. Another reason I like “worship,” though, besides the devotion bit, is the idea of reverence. The one you love should always be revered above all. That’s not speaking from the perspective of the object of such reverence, but the devotee.”

Varric smirked all the way through her reply, looking almost impressed. “I hadn’t realized you’d put so much thought into it as all that. You’ve surprised me. Perhaps you’re a bit of a writer yourself.”

Halise smirked back at him. “I’ll leave that to you, Varric. You seem to have a good enough grasp on things.” She winked subtly.

He chuckled loudly. “That I do, Torch. That I do.”

Halise decided to visit Cullen in his office the following morning. Bathed, well-rested, and in her favorite tunic and gray breeches, she felt herself again. When she opened the door to his tower, he was standing at his desk. He looked up at her and gave her a tense, close-lipped smile. Something was wrong.

“Is there anything I should know?” she asked tentatively as she approached him.

Cullen sighed heavily. “Is it that obvious?”

“Sort of,” she replied with a soft grin.

“I found out where the Red Templars come from: Therinfall Redoubt. The knights were fed red lyrium—turned into monsters. Samson took over after their corruption was complete,” he spat with a grimace.

 _That’s right, Cullen referred to Samson by name at Haven._ “Right, the guy with the disgusting greasy hair. You’ve mentioned his name before. How do you know him?”

“He was a Templar in Kirkwall—he and I actually shared quarters once—until he was expelled from the Order. He seemed a decent man at first, though Knight-Commander Meredith later expelled him for ‘erratic behavior.’ It had something to do with smuggling letters between a mage, Maddox, and his lover. Maddox was made tranquil and Samson was expelled, left to beg on the streets for money for lyrium. I knew he was an addict, but this…” Disgust overtook Cullen’s face and voice. “Red lyrium is nothing like the lyrium given by the Chantry. Its power comes with a terrible madness.”

“Which is why Varric and I have been destroying it everywhere we find it. But I hadn’t realized you and Samson had that sort of history. You never mentioned it. That seems like something important that maybe I should have known.” Something about that bothered her intensely. Her brow furrowed and she regarded him somewhat suspiciously. Several months had passed since Haven, and Mythal knew Cullen had many opportunities to tell Halise about Samson.

“It hasn’t come up since then,” he said, seemingly unaware of Halise’s growing vexation at his lack of communication. “I thought we would discuss it when I had more relevant information to share.”

“It’s fine,” Halise snapped curtly, running her fingers across her eyebrow. It wasn’t. His response only served to anger her further.

“Really? Because it sounds as though it’s not fine,” he retorted. The tinge of irritation tainting his voice sent her over the edge.

“Okay. You know what? No. It’s not fine. It’s been months since Haven and you’ve had literally hundreds of opportunities to tell me about Samson. Any little piece of information about him could have aided our investigation sooner, and maybe we wouldn’t be dealing with quite the same category of shitstorm as we are now. Do you realize how many Red Templars have almost killed me? How many times I’ve been cut by red lyrium and had to wait days to find out whether I was poisoned?! Anything that could have helped me _not_ almost die would have been greatly appreciated.” She gestured wildly, pointing her finger at Cullen, sweeping it over her head and behind her, and shaking it aggressively. Her voice was venomous, sarcasm flying forth with the final words of her tirade.

Cullen’s left eye twitched and the scar on his lip twisted as his umbrage and wrath creased his brow, overtaking his ordinarily neutral expression. Halise felt the lightest touch of fear in her stomach when he rushed around his desk and toward her, not unlike the way she had rushed at him in the Chantry at Haven after he scolded her for freeing the mages. The moment of fear knotting her gut scared her in an entirely different way. She didn’t really think that Cullen would hurt her, but why was she afraid of him even for a second? The man she loved—and she did even in that instant—shouldn’t strike fear into her. Would it be like this every time they argued? Would a small part of her wonder if he would hit her? Why was she wondering it now when she knew he wouldn’t? Was this a remnant of the trauma she had suffered at Adamant?

She shook herself from the thought when he spoke. “I didn’t tell you about Samson because I had nothing of substance to provide!” he growled, scant inches between them. “Our history and my knowledge of him were so outdated I determined they were useless.”

Her body trembled with fear and fury at once as she fired back, “Oh! So the little tidbits about him being a heinous lyrium addict with a grudge against the Order that would have led him to do whatever he could to tear it down were ‘useless?’ And the fact that he was expelled for helping a mage who was later made _tranquil_? That was useless too? Really?! You are my Commander, Cullen! It’s your job to help me win the fight against Corypheus!!! I hardly think keeping information from me that could help me find his general could be considered anything but a dereliction of that duty!!!” She wasn’t sure if that was too far. Cullen took his duties very seriously—so much so that he was willing to step down from the post that he held with vigor and aplomb all because of a hint of withdrawal symptoms—and accusing him of negligence in those duties may have been below the belt.

His lips curled into a snarl. Too far.

“If you think I am unfit for duty the by all means, relieve me.” His voice was low and quiet and filled with rage. “But I disclosed all information I felt necessary. You never asked me about Samson, and I determined I needed to conduct my own search to find out more before coming to you. If that decision means that I am not fit to lead your forces, then so be it.”

Everything in her tore her in different directions. She wanted to yell at him, to cry, to run away, to scream at the futility of all of it. Despite her nameless mounting fear, her visage maintained its mask of steely, angry resolve. She almost died too many times to ignore this. He was supposed to love her—to protect her. How could he do either if he was hiding things from her?

“That’s not. What I said,” she growled, choosing to feel her anger and keep fighting about this. They shouldn’t be hiding anything from each other. She laid herself bare for him and deserved reciprocation. “You’re keeping things from me! Important things! Why?! You’re supposed to tell me what’s going on!” This was about more than the Inquisition.

“I was about to!” he shouted. “Here—”

All she saw was his hand shoot up from his side. She gasped as she grimaced and flinched. Her head turned like a whip from Cullen, eyes shut tightly, and she brought up her marked hand, open wide to block her face. When there was no impact, Halise slowly opened her eyes. Terror still marring her expression, she turned back to look at him.

In his still raised hand she saw several sheets of parchment. She could see “RTS” scrawled on top of one of them. Red Templar Samson. He was stricken. His eyes were filled with pain, his brow furrowed, lips parted, shallow breaths raising and lowering his chest and shoulders. The red and black mane on his coat fluttered with the small breeze blowing in through the door she had entered and accidentally left open even though she knew it bothered him. But he was otherwise completely still.

“You thought I would…” he murmured. “B-But I-I would never…” Cullen shook his head so subtly she almost didn’t see it, eyes unmoving from her terrified face.

Anguish and shame seeped into every ounce of Halise’s being, flipping her stomach and making her queasy. Her vision blurred from the tears flooding her eyes. She could feel her lower lip quivering, so she sucked it between her teeth and bit down hard. Lightning crackled uncontrollably in her right hand. How could she ever have thought that Cullen would hurt her? He would never hurt her. But she could feel the scar on her jaw throbbing. She felt him cut her once. Or…she felt the illusion of him cut her once. It wasn’t him. She still couldn’t fully separate Nightmare’s apparition from reality. They blended and bled into each other in her mind.

She realized she was more dangerous to him than he was to her. Damaged. She had to go. She had to get far away, fast.

In one swift move, Halise snatched the report about Samson out of Cullen’s hand, turned on her heel, and ran from the tower. She could vaguely hear him calling for her to wait, but the sound of her blood in her ears and the popping in her hand made his voice nearly inaudible as she ran across the battlements. She took a shortcut to the stables, jumping over a wall onto the landing of a stone staircase below.

She collected herself just enough to ask Dennett to help saddle Moosh before running the back way through the kitchen up to her quarters to put on her armor. She dressed while she walked, reading the report through her teary haze upon her return to the stables. Red lyrium was being smuggled along trade routes in the Emerald Graves, but more information was still needed as far as where the lyrium came from and where it was going in order to find Samson. Perfect. She hadn’t been to the Graves, and there was a lot for her to do there. She could stay away from Cullen—for his sake. Her mind was too tangled between reality and a traumatic hallucination to trust him, and her frayed, disheveled emotions threatened to destroy both of them and everything they’d built together. She was humiliated—terrified that she would never again feel safe in the arms of the man she loved.

Without telling anyone where she was going, and without any of her friends, Halise rode Moosh out of the gates of Skyhold at full speed on her way to the Emerald Graves. She would send word for someone to meet her when she got there. Staying for even a moment more would have been unbearable, and would have granted too many opportunities for Cullen to seek her out. She needed time to think.

She had been so stupid.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely NSFW.

“Where?” Cullen asked.

“Emprise du Lion, outside of a town called Sahrnia,” Leliana replied. “She sent word last night.”

The two of them and Josephine were working in the war room a few hours after dawn. Halise had been gone more than a month, scouring the Emerald Graves for people in need of her help as well as evidence of the red lyrium smuggling operation. She’d sent for Varric, Dorian, and Iron Bull nearly a week after racing out of Skyhold alone without a word to anyone. Leliana sent agents to follow her after hearing of her flight, though on horseback it took them several days to catch up with her nonstop trail on her much faster battle nug. Once they caught up to her in the Graves, they reported back that she’d spent two days climbing trees, harvesting elfroot, and talking to people with her marked hand gloved and hair tucked into a hood.

She didn’t want to be the Inquisitor for two days, and her advisors respected her wishes, waiting for her to send for her companions before attempting to contact her directly. Only when they did finally begin to send her messages and reports, she wasn’t sending anything back. Bull, Dorian, and Varric responded to messages, but remained cryptic when discussing Halise, refusing to provide details on her save for the fact that she remained alive and uninjured.

They heard about many of her deeds in the Graves through word of mouth and Leliana’s agents, discovering that she closed a large number of rifts, helped a former noble conceal his identity to allow him to continue to aid the people, freed prisoners being held by a crazed former Chantry sister, and thwarted rogue Chevaliers in the region calling themselves the Freemen of the Dales. Varric had managed to mention in an uncharacteristically short, no-frills report that they destroyed several sources of red lyrium in the area and found a number of smuggler’s letters pointing to a source of the lyrium itself, though he hadn’t mentioned where that was.

“What is she doing in the Emprise?” Josephine asked quizzically.

Leliana held up the parchment on which Halise’s first correspondence was written. Cullen looked both longingly and angrily at the page. He wanted to see some part of her, even if just her handwriting. He ached to hear her voice, to see her smile. Her abrupt absence infuriated him. It was bad enough that she thought he would hurt her, but then she ran from him without a sound, and refused to correspond with him or anyone else until this visibly short letter simply announcing her change of location.

“She says there is evidence that the Red Templars have established themselves there. And there’s an abstruse note in here about people and red lyrium. I can only assume it has something to do with the investigation into Samson. We have been receiving unusual reports from the area. Perhaps you can offer a second opinion Cullen? The Red Templars are slightly more in your vein of expertise.” Leliana held the missive out for Cullen to take.

“Of course,” he replied as he took the letter, wondering if she actually meant that. He recognized Halise’s small messy handwriting on the parchment. Pain settled behind his eyes and in his chest when he read.

_In the Emprise’s arms near a place that sounds like “sorry” now. Heard there are people here that know something about rocks. Might be growing more in the quarry. People and rocks. Also heard some greasy guy has been talking to the rock people. Going to listen in._

Cullen struggled under the torrent of emotions roiling within him. His first instinct was to smile at the note. He could very nearly see and hear her when he read her words—she would cock her head and purse her lips, eyes bright and intelligent, vivid copper-red hair swaying about her face. Yearning to touch her, he lightly brushed his thumb across the letters on the page, sorrow at her absence rising in a lump in his throat. The missive was much more enigmatic than her normal style, forcing him to consider why she would write that way. Was someone following them? Did something make her suspicious? Or was it simply that she did not want to be clear with Cullen or her other advisors? Wishing that he knew, he mulled over the contents.

“It’s a bit more…vague than her normal letters,” he began, “but I tend to agree with you, Leliana. The Red Templars have likely taken over the area, including the quarry she mentions. I think that here, when she talks about ‘growing more’ and ‘people and rocks,’ she means that they are using people to manufacture more red lyrium. Lyrium sprouts out of the Red Templars that manage to survive being fed the stuff for prolonged periods of time. I imagine that it would do the same with any other person, so if they’ve taken prisoners, they’re likely using them to grow red lyrium. And the ‘greasy guy’ is Samson. Halise hates his hair. He must be directing the Red Templars’ actions.”

Leliana watched him knowingly, arms crossed as usual, undoubtedly waiting for him to slip up in some way. It wasn’t that they had any animosity between them. On the contrary, they got along quite well when Halise was not the topic of conversation. She hadn’t figured out what happened between Halise and Cullen before Halise ran away, and he was committed to making sure she didn’t learn of their strange argument. It wasn’t for his sake—he was willing to suffer Leliana’s wrath—but for Halise’s. He didn’t want her reputation as a stalwart and committed leader to be called into question because she left in the wake of a fight with her lover. He really did hate that word.

“What does she need from us to support her?” Josephine asked. She was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, given the largely abandoned nature of Emprise du Lion and the utter lack of nobility for her to tap in the territory.

“There isn’t much,” Cullen responded, knowing that if there was, he’d volunteer himself for the journey. “All we can do is remain attentive to Leliana’s agents’ reports and anything Halise or the others send us. If she wants our help, she’ll ask for it. We must have faith in her abilities.”

“There are few things I trust more,” Leliana commented.

“Indeed,” Cullen said as he nodded.

*****

“Hey,” a voice rattled around in his head.

“Hey.” Slim fingers lightly pressed down on his chest and caressed his cheek, willing him to open his eyes.

Cullen cracked his lids blearily, squinting to see who stirred him from his deep sleep. Her fluorescent green eyes stared into his, wide smile nearly glowing in the dark of the pre-dawn morning. Her long curled hair shown bright across the skin of his chest where her marked hand also rested.

“Halise,” he rasped, sleep still sitting dryly in this throat. “You’re back. You came back.” He lifted himself onto his elbows, closing the distance between their faces.

“I’ll always come back,” she purred.

Halise’s palm pressed more firmly against his chest, forcing him flat once more as she climbed onto his bed. She straddled Cullen, setting herself down gently on top of him. Her face was wanton. She chewed on the inside of her lip while she lowered her chest to meet his, her breath hot and damp across his neck. He could feel her unbound breasts against her tunic against his skin. His cock twitched and grew beneath her warmth.

He felt the fingers of both her hands reach up into his hair, nails dragging across his scalp, sending a shudder of pleasure through him. Cullen groaned when she slid her tongue up his neck. She drew his earlobe into her mouth, sucking and nibbling on it. He grabbed her waist roughly, thrusting up against her heat. She let out a strangled moan in response, and the vibration reverberated through Cullen’s body, intensifying his need for her. He watched as she placed both hands on his chest and pushed herself back up from him, their eyes locking in the dark.

“Aren’t you glad I’m here, my love?” she cooed.

“Immeasurably,” he breathed.

“Really?” She grinned widely.

Something flashed against the low light before Cullen heard the sound of steel lacerating through flesh. Nearly a foot of the silvery, blood-stained blade of a sword protruded from Halise’s chest, just above her left breast. She grimaced, mouth agape, and her body shuddered as she turned her gaze from him to the end of the blade. Blood poured from the wound, creating a growing purple stain on the front of her favorite blue tunic. Her shoulders shook and heaved. She brought her violently trembling hands up, seemingly attempting to find a way to remove the sword from her body.

Cullen couldn’t scream. He couldn’t move. Every muscle in his body cried out against his involuntary inaction. He felt Halise’s blood forming a warm pool on his stomach as she shook and struggled on top of him. Her breaths came in shallow, wet gasps. Her lungs were filling with blood, and it started to come out of her mouth, staining her lips a darker red than they had been the last time they kissed.

Finally, he cast his eyes upward to see who was killing the woman he loved. They widened when he saw blonde hair and golden eyes staring back at him. It was him. He stood behind Halise with a depraved smile on his face, wearing his Templar armor. He twisted the blade ever so slightly, causing Halise to lurch and cough blood over Cullen’s bare chest and face. The sight, sensation, and metallic smell would have made him gag.

“Fool,” his mirror image scoffed. “She saw it before you did. She knew you’d hurt her, and look at you now. How do you justify killing the woman you love? How could you kill the savior of Thedas?”

Cullen blinked, then felt the sword in his hand. He was staring down at the back of Halise’s head, watching her red curls quiver, several tendrils shortened by the sword, their remnants coiled up behind her on the bed. She knelt atop his bare bed, but he still wore only his smallclothes where he stood. She let her head fall back to look at him, mouth hanging open, blood painting a thin line from the corner of her lips down the pale skin of her cheek and neck. Her expression was pleading. Tears streaked down one side of her face, puddling between her eye and the bridge of her nose on the other. Her shaking slowed to infrequent but vicious spasms. A rasping, rattling noise emanated from deep within her, lasting far too long. With a final convulsion, her arms dropped to her side, and Cullen could feel that his arm holding the sword buried in her was the only thing holding her body upright. All the light faded from her eyes, leaving only dull, glassy orbs staring at him.

As if Halise’s death released him, his body came back into his control. Tears flowed from his eyes as he let out an earth-shaking roar.

The sound of his screaming tore his eyes open. He was in bed, covered in sweat. He panted and darted his head and eyes in every direction. No Halise. No blood. He remembered. It was two weeks since she wrote to them about being in Emprise du Lion. She was alright according to Dorian. Still far away. It was all a bad dream.

He sat up, cursing the lyrium and his past for making nightmares such a routine part of his life. He would not sleep again now, lest he fall back into the dream. He couldn’t see it again, though he probably would on the next night. The nightmares had gotten much, much worse since Halise left, though this one had been far more severe than most.

He stood from his bed. Parched, he decided to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He pulled on his breeches and threw a tunic over his head. After climbing down the ladder from his loft and exiting his office, he could feel the cold stone of the battlements against his feet. The crisp air breezed through his bed-mussed curls. The sensation reminded him of the day Halise burst into his office with the wind at her back. It was the first time he had seen her bare stomach. Her hair swirled about her face like wildfire, then her laughter filled his office like a song. He was so captivated by her, he hadn’t noticed his papers flew everywhere. Once she pointed them out, he was so embarrassed by his ogling that he could barely speak to her.

Cullen brushed a rogue curl from his forehead when he walked into the kitchen. Much to his surprise, that boy was sitting in a chair next to the fire. Cole. It was becoming less and less difficult to remember him the longer he was around. Cullen knew Cole was a spirit, and understood his powers to some degree. He also knew the boy didn’t eat, and wondered what he was doing in the kitchen.

“The cats like to play in here since I put down the mint. I like cats,” Cole murmured, responding to a question that hadn’t been asked.

“Oh,” Cullen replied absently. The boy’s habit of mind-reading was occasionally unnerving, but he was growing accustomed to it. He moved to the cupboard and took out a cup. He sighed quietly as he drew water from the basin connected to the well, thoughts of Halise tapping at his mind persistently.

“She is too bright to hear sometimes, but she felt danger the day she left,” said Cole.

Without looking, Cullen responded, “I know. She was scared of me. She thought I would hurt her. I never would.” He took a sip of his water.

“Not that. Not you. Her. Thoughts twisting. Nightmare. Too hard to trust, not his fault. Can’t hurt him, not like this,” the boy muttered.

He was sometimes too obscure in his way of speaking. “She doesn’t trust me but it’s not my fault? That doesn’t make much sense.”

“She told you. It wasn’t you, but it was.”

Those words rang in his ears, clamoring about in his mind. _It wasn’t you, but it was_. That was what she said in her tent after Adamant. Describing what the demon had shown her, she’d said, “You killed her and he made me kill you. Twice. It wasn’t you, but it was.” He would never forget those words. She wasn’t scared of him—not really.

“She ran because she couldn’t reconcile the real me with what she saw in the Fade?”

“No more failure. Not you too. It makes it worse. She can’t fail if you hold her, but she can’t be held. What’s twisted needs straightening. She left before I could help.” Cole actually turned to look at Cullen, who, without realizing it, had been staring at the back of the boy’s wide-brimmed hat attentively. He felt like he was listening to pieces of a puzzle being put together.

“You need her too,” Cole remarked. “Soft but hard. Brilliant and brilliant. Smile like a thousand suns. Stronger when she holds you.”

Cullen swelled with pride at the woman he loved and shrank with the ache of missing her. Cole’s interpretation of his thoughts was rather spot on. Halise was soft and lovely, and hard in battle. Brilliantly smart and a brilliant beacon to light all of Thedas. Little more needed to be explained about his feelings on her smile, though he could expound on them for days. He wasn’t sure whether Cole meant that Halise was stronger when she held Cullen, or he was stronger when she held him. It could have been both, but her embrace made him feel invincible.

“She will be back soon. I know that helps.”

“It does,” Cullen said softly. He stepped over to Cole, patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Thank you, Cole.”

With that, he took his cup of water out of the kitchen and back to his room with him.

_She will be back_.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad, bad dreams...
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very! Very! NSFW! Finally!!!

“Where?” Halise had completely zoned out, staring off into the distance.

“We’re about to reach the gate, Torch,” Varric smirked, pointing her attention in front of them.

She hadn’t realized they were already there. Her mind and body were exhausted in a way they had never been before. She, Varric, Dorian, and Iron Bull had been gone more than two months, first in the temperate Emerald Graves, then in freezing Emprise du Lion.

The Emerald Graves were beautiful. Halise spent several days wandering the forest, gathering plants, climbing trees, and looking at Elvhen monuments. She missed being Halise. The title of Inquisitor bore with it a tremendous weight and responsibility. After the Winter Palace, she’d wondered what would happen if she was forced to stifle herself in a marriage to a noble. She hadn’t realized, however, that she had already been stifled to some degree or another as the Inquisitor. Everything she did was watched, scrutinized, and analyzed against peoples’ perceptions of what she was meant to be doing—as if even one other person could possibly fathom what they would do in her shoes. She knew Leliana’s agents were watching her during that week in the Graves, but their observance was quiet and unobtrusive, and her advisors had left her undisturbed until she sent for Dorian and the others. She appreciated their respect, to whatever degree, of her privacy.

She’d had the opportunity to speak to people in as much a disguise as she could muster, having packed nothing and left in such a hurry. She realized that the prevailing attitude was that she was a woman of the people, doing the best she could to help Thedas. Word could not express how grateful she was that people saw that. But she also realized that most were just going on about their lives, trying not to let the multi-tiered war kill them or their families. They simply wanted to live free. Her own heart echoed their sentiments, which was, in part, why she eventually sent for her friends. Work needed doing, despite Halise’s still-tangled feelings.

At first, she hadn’t had much reason for not communicating with her advisors beyond her desire to get her mind straight. After Bull, Dorian, and Varric arrived, though, she asked them to limit their correspondence to Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen. She wasn’t entirely sure why in the beginning, but over time she realized that she just needed to feel like she could still lead the Inquisition. Those three held her hand in nearly every major decision she had made since joining the Inquisition, so she reasoned that it was time for her to test her mettle as a leader. It went pretty well, if she did say so herself.

However, Bull soon discovered signs that someone was shadowing them. It wasn’t the Inquisition, but whoever it was was feeding someone information. Halise decided that any further communication between her group and Skyhold needed to be much more cryptic. If they had something to say, it needed to be said in a way that only her closest people would understand—that Cullen would understand.

Thoughts of Cullen filled Halise’s spare moments. She would talk with her friends about ways to disassociate the illusion from the man. Varric’s suggestion that she remember everything that Cullen had been through—part of which Varric had seen for himself—and remind herself that he was a man who would never willingly harm someone close to him was helpful to some degree. Dorian, who had seen her terrifying vision first-hand, talked her through the discrepancies between the vision and reality, and what moments caused her to lapse into her perception of the vision, discussing the best strategies for confronting those feelings. Iron Bull offered to hit her in the stomach with a large stick until she wasn’t afraid anymore. That was the first good laugh she’d had in a while.

When they made their way to Emprise du Lion, Halise had been horrified to discover what was going on in the quarry. The sole remaining noble in Sahrnia had sold the quarry to the Red Templars and allowed them to take people and use them to grow and harvest red lyrium. Dozens of people were taken and slowly killed in this process. Halise freed and saved as many as she could, nausea filling her gut every time she came close to the high volumes of red lyrium in the area. She also had Mistress Poulin, the noble, arrested and brought back to Skyhold to give Halise time to decide what to do with the woman. She needed to cool off and think reasonably before taking any action.

They had also been forced to fight a vain and obnoxious desire demon that called itself Imshael. An apparently disgraced Chevalier named Michel de Chevin had alerted them to the demon’s presence in Suledin Keep. The battle was inordinately long, but was one of the final tasks on Halise’s agenda whilst in the Emprise. After defeating the demon, and in spite of the corrupted giants and behemoth Red Templars roaming the keep, Suledin Keep fell rather easily. Halise had Dorian send word that the keep was captured, and Josephine quickly sent a family friend to oversee its reconstruction and operation, which was unsurprising given the lack of nobility in the area. Josephine needed an ally, and he was kind and intelligent. Halise had no problem at all with the arrangement.

Several days after retaking Suledin Keep, and after several long talks with her friends, Halise decided it was finally time to return to Skyhold. She’d discovered important information that would likely lead to the Red Templars’ hideout, and likely Samson, and she needed to talk to Cullen about it. Really, she needed to talk to him about a lot of things, but she and her compatriots had also been working themselves to the bone, running out of supplies and sleeping worse and worse every night. Emprise du Lion was freezing, adding to their run down state. So Halise sent a two-word message ahead of them to Skyhold. “Coming home.”

“Ah!” Dorian cried from behind her as they approached the gates of Skyhold. “Home at last!” He and Bull rode side by side, having taken their “long distance chess game” to the next step. Halise couldn’t have been happier for them. Quite frankly, she thought they were adorable.

“Varric,” she said, “it’ll be okay won’t it?”

He smiled tiredly at her. “I haven’t a doubt in my mind, Torch.”

They could hear the sounds of cheering and celebration on the other side of the open portcullis. A rather large crowd had formed to greet them after their long absence, cacophonous joy emanating from their unified voices. Before they even got over the bridge, Halise saw Sera come running full speed toward her. The sight of the unkempt blonde elf was enough to bring tears to Halise’s eyes, and she leapt off Moosh to greet her friend.

Sera made a growling roar sound as she got closer, dipping down and wrapping her thin arms around Halise’s whole torso and arms, lifting her off the ground with a heave. Halise cackled in response to the impromptu lift, throwing her arms around Sera once she’d been set back on the ground.

“Some friend you are!” Sera yelled, playfully punching Halise’s shoulder when the two turned to complete the walk inside. “Can’t even be bothered to send a note. ‘Hey there! Not dead! Give Sera pie!’ Pfft. What a waste.”

Halise felt her nose crinkle with the next bout of laughter. “Sorry,” she replied with mock contrition, “I’ve been neglectful in my consideration of your pie needs. I’ll be sure to leave detailed instructions and a feeding schedule when I leave next time.”

Sera stuck out her tongue. “Piss on that! You’re never leaving me here again!” With that, she wrapped her arms around Halise’s side and squeezed once more before they passed the portcullis into the courtyard.

A cheer rose up from the soldiers, merchants, and others that had gathered by the gate. The warmth of the welcome brought a grin to Halise’s face. She waved and shook hands and accepted warm hugs from her greeters. She didn’t know whether they were happy to see her, happy she was alive, or just happy to be in the Inquisitor’s presence, but in that moment she didn’t care. She had been away for so long everything and everyone looked just a bit different. The grass was higher, the leaves had shifted and grown, children were taller, hair was longer. It was a surreal experience.

She looked up to where her advisors normally stood when she returned home. The foot of the steps to the main hall held Josephine, Leliana, Morrigan, and…Not Cullen. He wasn’t there. Crestfallen, Halise felt the corners of her eyes droop, though she struggled to keep her smile stuck to her face. Stepping toward the majority of her advisors, she clenched her jaw, refusing to let her lip quiver.

A discordant clatter churned from the top of the steps, drawing Halise’s eyes up. Cullen’s armor knocked and clanged together as he ran out of the main hall and started down the stairs, turning his feet sideways to descend as rapidly as possible. When he reached the landing, he glanced up from the stairs toward where Halise was standing. She saw him see her. He froze for only a moment, a look she couldn’t quite place settled on his face, then continued his descent.

Halise was still a good measure away from the bottom of the steps when he got there. As soon as his feet hit the dirt, he looked at her. Their eyes met. She read something like worry in his, knowing there was relief in hers. He was here. She needed him to know she missed him. She needed him to know she needed him.

She started walking, or at least she thought she did. She had no idea how fast she broke into a run, but suspected it had only been about a step or two. Her heart leapt in her throat when she saw him moving toward her. She wouldn’t stop. Not for anything. It was forever and no time at all before she surged into his body, wrapping her arms around his neck as her chest slammed into his breastplate. A vocal sob escaped her when she felt his arms around her waist, leaving her toes dangling just slightly off the ground.

Halise breathed into Cullen’s lion’s mane collar before turning her face into the bare skin of his neck. One of his hands snaked up her back, clutching the base of her neck. His breath wove through her hair and brushed across her skin. Another cheer rose up from the gathered mass at the embrace.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I missed you so much. I’m so sorry,” Halise squeaked frantically into his neck, voice choked by the clenching throat muscles accompanying strangled cries that threatened to break free.

“It’s alright. I love you. I love you,” he whispered, stroking the back of her hair.

A single sob burst from her lips. “I love you. I love you so much, Cullen,” she whimpered. Her fingers tangled themselves in the back of his hair.

Cullen lowered Halise’s feet to the ground. They’d barely had time to find purchase in the dirt before he swept his forearm under her knees, cutting them out from under her. He pulled her body up to him, cradling her against him. Her ornate bow and quiver still hung from her back, swaying as he walked with her up the stairs and through the main hall. She looked at him while he looked ahead, face solid and strong. There was no sound but their breathing and his boots hitting the ground in a smooth cadence.

He pushed his arm further under her knees when they reached the door to Halise’s quarters, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. He kicked it closed behind them, walking carefully up the stairs into her room. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Cullen set her down on her feet gingerly, holding out his hand in a gesture intended to get her to stay put. She acquiesced, watching as he walked back down the stairs and locked the door. Halise couldn’t help the broad smile that overtook her when she realized what he was doing, a smile he saw and reciprocated upon his return to her side.

Cullen guided her to stand near the foot of her bed. He slowly moved behind her, and she could feel him gently unfastening and divesting her of her equipment. He handled her bow with special care as he walked to her armor stand and rested her belongings on the wall beside it. Halise hadn’t realized until that moment the attention he’d paid to where she kept her things, but he dutifully laid her bow, quiver, and pouches exactly where she normally put them. The sight clenched at her heart. How could she have left him for two months with nary a word?

He removed his gloves and set them down on the corner of her desk. Smiling tenderly at her, he came to stand in front of her. His now bare and calloused fingers began to unbuckle her armor. Halise breathed heavily in the face of the anticipation growing low within her. He was handling her so delicately it was nearly impossible for her to imagine why she would ever have thought for even a fraction of a second that he would harm her.

After pulling her coat off and setting it on her armor stand, Cullen had left her in her undershirt, black breeches, and boots. “Take a seat,” he said, holding out his open hand toward the edge of her bed.

Halise complied, sitting slowly while keeping her eyes locked with his. She felt simultaneously at his mercy and in complete control, which sent a shiver down her spine. Warmth pooled in her belly in response to her building desire as Cullen removed her left boot, then her right. She pressed her lips together when the thought of the potential reek of her weeks-shod feet passed through her mind. When Cullen turned from her to return her boots to their place, she bent at the waist, leaning down and sniffing them as quietly as possible. Ew. That was bound to demolish any want he may have had for her. She girded for his imminent rejection as he walked toward her.

Instead, he held his hand out to her, guiding her to stand before leading her in the direction of her washroom. The scent of embrium and berries filled the air past the threshold of the little room. Her eyes were drawn to the copper bathtub filled with steaming water directly before her. Candles lined the tub and lie scattered about the room, filling the space with warm light. A thin veil of steam hung in the atmosphere. A hot bath. Halise turned to Cullen. Her lip quivering prior to the watery smile that spread over her face.

“You’ve been gone for so long. I thought you might want a warm bath.” He rubbed the back of his neck. This was her Cullen. “I-I can go if you’d prefer to be alone.”

“Oh no,” she murmured, “I’ve spent far too long without you. Please stay.”

A smile spread over his face. His wonderful, handsome, thoughtful face. He reached forward, grasping the hem of Halise’s shirt between his thumb and index finger. “Shall I?”

“Absolutely,” she breathed, the sound nearly failing to escape her lips.

Cullen licked his lips, tongue brushing against his scar. The sight set Halise’s body trembling as he gently lifted her shirt over her head. His fingers ghosted across her stomach when he moved to untie her breeches. As he pulled them down past her feet and away from her, she nibbled on the inside of her lip. Next, he placed his hand on her breastband. _You can rip it again if you need to_. To her surprise, he dipped his finger between the band and her ribcage, pulling out the end of the wrap. He slowly unfurled her, freeing her breasts.

She struggled to maintain her composure when she saw how he looked at her. Lust dilated his pupils, darkening the autumnal tone of his eyes. Then he knelt, the weight of his warrior’s musculature and armor resting on one knee, and slid his hands up her thighs. Halise clenched her jaw, extending her arm to run her fingers through his hair. Her nails dragged across his scalp as she looked down at him shamelessly. He closed his eyes and pitched his head, leaning into her movement, all the while tugging her smallclothes free from her frame. Her free hand trembled, chest loosing an uneven breath.

He laid a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh. She shook from her feet to the tips of her ears, head languishing back as another jagged breath sawed out of her. She could hear him stand, so she righted herself to look him in the eye.

“Get in,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.” Cullen turned from her, headed back into her room.

Halise abided by Cullen’s words, stepping into the tub. Water washed over her, hot and relaxing on her too tired muscles. She groaned at the sensation before dipping her head under the water, making sure to emerge face first to avoid further tangling her long, already knotted hair.

Heavy, but bare, footsteps made their way to her. She spun her head to see Cullen, rolling up the sleeves of his red tunic to his elbows. He still wore his breeches as well. Some part of her was disappointed, while yet another part was relieved that she didn’t have to share the tub. Sure, it was large enough for her to stretch out, but he was much bulkier than she was, and his muscle alone would spill the water over and crowd the tub fiercely. The thought brought a sly grin to her lips.

He carried a wooden chair with him. The wood clacked on the stone floor behind her head, creaking with Cullen’s weight as he took a seat. His hand reached to the small shelf attached to the side of the tub, and he picked up a washcloth and the bar of elfroot and rashvine soap she kept there. After dipping the washcloth in the water beside her shoulder, he lathered it with the soap.

He took great care in washing her skin, holding her delicately, but pressing hard enough to clean her and massage her overwrought muscles. Halise rested her head on the edge of the bathtub, between Cullen’s knees, trying desperately not to fall asleep.

Once he finished with her skin, he moved onto her hair. She could smell it when he opened the bottle of liquid soap she used for her hair. The scent of blueberries crept up her nostrils, sweet and pleasant. Cullen kneaded the soap into her hair, rubbing her scalp with his fingertips. A quiet moan escaped her lips, and his fingers paused for a moment. She heard him clear his throat as he resumed his task. His strong hands brought immense relief to her weary body and soul.

Halise wondered if he was mad at her. How could he not be? It was probably best to ask instead of wondering. Letting her thoughts fester was, after all, the cause of her previous anxiety.

“Are you angry with me?” She was a little afraid of the answer.

“No,” he replied quietly. “I was a bit…cross when you first left. Mostly I was worried and confused. Less after my talk with Cole.” He filled a small cup with water, leaned Halise’s head back, and poured it over her hair to rinse out the soap.

“Cole?” she asked. The boy was so friendly and sweet and odd, but she never really pictured him getting along with Cullen, though Cole seemed to like him well enough. He always referred to him as a “good man” and a “good Templar.”

“Yes. He reminded me of what happened at Adamant. I should have known better—recognized your anguish. It’s not so dissimilar from what I have dealt with since Kinloch. And you know I still struggle with that. I understand that it can be so much more than difficult to disentangle that trauma from your feelings about reality. How could I have expected you to just forget and move on?”

“I wish I could help. Instead I just made things worse,” she muttered, staring at her hands as she wrung her fingers, choosing to focus on him instead of her trauma.

“No,” Cullen replied firmly. He reached over her shoulder, using his crooked finger under her chin to pull her to look back and up at him as he leaned over her. Something seemed to give him pause at the sight of her face before he continued. “I can’t let you think that haven’t helped—or that you’ve made anything worse. My concerns over your wellbeing have nothing to do with my own experiences. I worry for you because I love you, and I want you to be happy and safe. I want to be able to protect you, but I can’t do that if you already feel unsafe with me. You have to cope in your own way, and if that meant being away from me, the I can’t possibly be angry at you for that.

“What’s more,” he continued, “despite my unease at your sudden departure and not receiving word from you for some time, or perhaps in light of that, I have thought less about Kinloch than ever. I’ve never felt as good as I do knowing that you love me. And I did know, even when you were gone. You must see by now that you’ve made me a better, stronger man because you hold me up—because I have to be to come even close to being worthy of your love.”

Tears spilled from Halise’s eyes, falling silently from her face into the water to create tiny ripples. She pressed her cheek into his palm. “Cullen, you’ve been worthy of my love since the day I met you. I don’t mean on the battlefield at the temple, either. I mean from the moment you were willing to stand against Leliana when you thought she might kill me in that tiny room. I remember. You didn’t know me, and you had more reason to kill me than save me, but you did it anyway. And you can’t think that you’re the only one being held up. You make me feel indestructible—which admittedly I absolutely am not. But I feel safer and stronger with you than I have my whole life. I love you so much, and I’m so sorry I left.” She rotated her head to kiss his hand.

Cullen pushed the chair out from under him and back, positioning himself kneeling beside her. He gently placed his strong hands around her jaw, fingers brushing against her ears, and pulled her to him. Their kiss was love incarnate. Soft and tender and passionate and sensual. Every emotion they felt poured into the touch of their lips, the dance of their tongues.

He pulled away from her only to pick up a lambswool towel from the ground next to him. He stood, Halise’s hand still clasped in his, drawing her up with him. She felt both vulnerable and strong, her nakedness bare and unobscured before him once more. He moved back, helping her out of the bathtub, his eyes drinking her in as she stepped out. Bringing the towel up, he started to dry her off.

Cullen swept the towel over Halise’s arms first, moving slowly and deliberately, wiping away any remaining water on her skin. He dragged the cloth across her stomach before bringing it up between her breasts to dry her neck. She could feel the strength and tension in his fingers as he moved from one side of her neck to the other, and she tilted her head away, eyes closed, to allow him full access. Then he drew the towel down across her breasts, moving achingly slow. The soft rasp of the cloth tightened her nipples, sending pleasurable tingling sensations shooting through her and eliciting a shaky sigh.

Finished with the front of her torso, Cullen set upon her legs. He kneeled before her as he dried all the way down, picking up her feet and squeezing them within the cloth. On both legs, he ran the towel back up, stopping at the very edge of her sex and moving away. Halise shuddered both times, wetness pooling where he refused to touch. He was teasing her. Pushing her as far to the edge as he could.

She watched as he stepped behind her. Carefully gathering her hair into the towel, he wrung out the excess water, leaving only dampness in the wake of his grip. He spread his hand out flat under the towel to dry her back, creeping from shoulder to shoulder along her vallaslin before proceeding down her spine. She could hear his knee softly hit the stone behind her as he dried her backside. Again, he pushed the towel between her legs, and again he stopped short of her wetness. He held his hand there, tantalizingly close, while he grabbed her hip with his other hand. She felt him kiss the dimples on her lower back like fire against ice—and she was melting.

Halise could hear only the slightest rustling sound as Cullen withdrew the towel from her, though almost instantly his hand was back on her hip. His bare chest brushed against her back as he stood. He pressed himself against her tightly, leaving not even a breath of space between their bodies. Her curves fit so snugly against him, it was as if they were built together, their bodies severed only by some malicious divine intervention and set upon the earth to find one another again. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his stubble softly rubbing her skin, as he moved his hands around her waist under her arms.

They stood like that without moving for a moment, settling into one another. His cock strained against his breeches, pressed up against Halise’s ass. She yearned to feel it within her, filling her. Just as she was ready to turn to face him, he slid his hands up her stomach and began to knead at her breasts, grabbing them up in handfuls and squeezing before running his calloused thumbs and fingers over her taught nipples. She dropped her head back against his shoulder, chewing on her lip and panting in response to the growing pleasure he brought her. Cullen took the opportunity presented by her exposed neck, setting upon her with his lips, tongue and teeth.

As he licked and sucked at her flesh, and she groaned, he slipped his right hand away from her breast, skimming it across her stomach and down to her sex. His fingers dipped into her first, exploring her, spreading her open, feeling the slick wetness there. He withdrew them only to slide them up to her clit. She reached up and around to tangle her fingers in his hair. He started to massage her in slow circles, increasing his speed with his sense of her growing fervor. She panted and mewled against the pressure building within, Cullen’s deft touch bringing her to the ragged edge.

“Vhenan,” she panted. “Don’t stop.”

His lips brushed against her ear. “Come for me. Come for me Halise.”

The wet heat of his breath on her ear coupled with the lustful tone of his voice sent her over the edge. Her breath hitched in her throat and she held it there, clenching his hair in her fingers as her body shook intensely. The world broke apart and scattered into stars around her. She keened as Cullen worked her in slow circles, pushing her climax until it subsided. Halise shuddered out a jagged breath. Her knees trembled, giving way under her.

Cullen caught her before she fell, scooping her up into his arms once more and carrying her back into her room to her bed. Her body was lax against his chest before he laid her down sideways on the bed. He crawled up over her, lifting her back to situate her fully on the bed before he settled between her legs. Conscious once more, Halise wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a passionate kiss. He ground his hardness into her, eliciting a moan from deep within her. She reached her hand down between them and began to unlace his breeches. This brought a groan from him before he tore himself from her to finish the job, standing only as long as it took to free himself and kick the pants away. She watched as his cock sprang free, wantonly licking her lips in anticipation.

He set himself upon her again, grinding against her. She mewled at the contact, arching her back to chase the pleasure he brought. “Sathan,” she purred, “pala em. Sathan vhenan, isala ma.”

In her desire, she forgot for a moment that he didn’t speak Elvhen. “Please, fuck me. Please my love—my heart—I need you.”

His amber eyes, darkened with heady lust, seared into her as he breathed, “Not as much as I need you.”

With no further hesitation, Halise grabbed his cock and guided it into her. He slid in slowly at first, allowing her to adjust before thrusting hard into her once. She groaned at the sensation, encircling Cullen’s waist with her legs and bucking into him. Their sweat mingled between them as he pushed into her and sucked and bit her neck. They panted in rhythm with one another, Cullen’s breath stopping once when he felt Halise’s little lightning against his back. She grabbed his ass and worked her legs up his sides to allow him to press deeper into her, feeling herself nearing a second climax.

Cullen gently grasped her throat, growling into her ear. The glorious sound and pressure sent her into orgasm, better than the first because he was inside her. She dug her nails into his shoulder blades and whimpered as she felt him finish with her. He moaned against her neck, thrusting into her sporadically a few more times before he collapsed.

He stayed inside her for several minutes while their breaths slowed, hands massaging each other’s heads and necks, fingers weaving into hair and sweet nothings passing between them.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” she whispered. “I love you, my heart.”

“I love you. Vhenan,” he replied, the Elvhen rolling off his tongue as if he was born to say it.

She smiled as they gazed into each other’s eyes, finally understanding they were meant to be.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's the thing. I've caught up with myself. I've been writing like mad to try and make sure that didn't happen, but there it is. This means that either today or tomorrow will be the last daily upload. I'll likely still be uploading more than once a week, but it will be at least that. I'm sorry if I let anyone down with that, but I just haven't had time to write a new chapter every day, mostly because I want them to be good (more than just passable, at least). Thanks all for understanding, and for sticking with me!
> 
> Also, I'm hoping that this chapter eases some of that tension. Eh? Eh? *elbows* See what I did there?
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	33. Chapter 33

“That one.” Halise pointed to a long scar on Cullen’s chest as they lay together naked in their afterglow. Her head rested on his arm and chest, her long leg draped over his. They were trading scar stories.

“This one?” He glanced down and tapped it with his fingertip. “That is from a failed harrowing at Kinloch when I was 18—one of the first I attended. The mage, a young man, was possessed by a rage demon who came out swinging. The mage’s staff was particularly sharp and clipped right through my armor. I was more worried about repairing the breastplate than I was about the bleeding wound, lest I be disciplined, so it seeped and bled for more than a day before I got it tended.” He chuckled lightly.

“They were that hard on you for damaging armor?” she asked incredulously, running her finger up and down the length of the scar.

“Yes, the Knight-Captain would dole out a month of overnight guard duty if he caught so much as a whiff of damaged armor.” He stroked her hand before pointing at an uneven mark on her hip. “That one.”

He watched as she followed his finger with her eyes. “Ah. That was a great bear in the Emerald Graves. She was attacking people and killed a few. Unfortunately, I found out too late that she was protecting her cubs—vicious little assholes themselves.” Halise scanned his body for another scar, settling on a shiny patch of skin on his stomach. “That one.”

He laughed. “I’m afraid that one is a bit embarrassing. I fell out of a tree when I was playing with Mia and Branson when I was nine. I hit a rather nasty branch on my way down to the ground, and we were all too scared to tell Mother and Father what happened. They told us not to climb trees alone, you see. But they found out when Mother came to wake me the next morning and found my bed sheets covered in blood.”

Halise grinned widely up at him, the yellow rings in her bright green eyes sparkling in the low candlelight. “You fell out of a tree too? That’s how I learned to fix my shoulder at Haven! Eirlan and I were playing in a tree and I fell out and dislocated my shoulder. We were also too scared to tell, so we ran my shoulder back into that same tree. It popped back in and we acted like it never happened. But Creators be damned if I didn’t still have to practice archery the next morning! I was certain my arm would fall off! Just—plop—there in the dirt!”

She threw her head back and laughed, rolling her head down his arm and slapping his chest gently. He joined in her merriment and laughter, but kept his eyes glued to her. She was so beautiful when she laughed. She was so beautiful all the time. Her hair was fanned out in every direction, tickling his arm and chest. They needed sleep—her especially—but he didn’t want to let the moment go. The world was still in turmoil around them, and every second with her had to be carefully catalogued, stored, and cherished. This was crystalline and wonderful, and he grasped with every fiber of his being to hold onto it.

But Cullen knew she was tired. Just as he was about to suggest that they sleep, her bubbling laughter slowed to a simmer, which led to a broad yawn. Halise curled her body back into his, pressing against him. Her skin was so much cooler to the touch than his, but she complained about heat if it was more than 73 degrees. What an unfathomable contradiction she was. She was the embodiment of every element. Fire lived in her blood, hair, eyes, and smile. She flowed coolly like water, adaptive and soothing, and she would wear away at people until they saw her perspective. She moved and sang like wind, but remained as strong and grounded as stone. She was everything.

Her hand slid across his chest to hold him tightly at his waist. He softly stroked the hair around her temple with the hand whose arm encircled her from under her head. He let his fingers wander down to the light silken skin of her shoulder. Halise inhaled deeply and sighed against him, her breath nearly running the length of his body, and began to hum faintly. He recognized the tune after a moment. It was the song he’d sung in her tent after Adamant. Her voice was dulcet, and the melody began to slow when her eyes closed, dark lashes tickling his collarbone. She stopped in the middle of the chorus, her breath subdued and even. She was asleep, and Cullen was grateful. She once again felt as safe with him as he did with her. All was as it should be then, so he let himself drift off, knowing the nightmares would not come for him that night.

*****

They decided to go together to the Shrine of Dumat to find Samson. Halise’s investigation in the Emerald Graves and Emprise du Lion pointed to the shrine as Samson’s base of operations, and Cullen refused to part with Halise so soon after her homecoming. Moreover, he knew Samson once, and needed to be there for his defeat. The man had ruined so many lives for so many men and women with his selfish actions. He’d allowed his addiction to kill countless people, the same addiction that Cullen was overcoming. He had to be there, even if only for poetic justice, though he hoped for some real justice too.

With only Sera, Dorian, and Iron Bull coming with them, all of whom had known about Halise and Cullen for longer than perhaps Cullen was comfortable, they could be themselves on the journey. Despite the consternation prodding at the back of his mind, Cullen deeply appreciated the ability to love Halise in the open. He supposed that their rather public reunion at Skyhold several days before could have been considered something similar, but they had not kissed then, and were free to do so now.

The journey took three days, during which the two of them probably made their companions nauseous with the constant stream of affection flowing between them. They slept—construing the term loosely—in the same tent, unconcerned with propriety or judgment. Cullen had never been in much of a relationship at all, let alone one he could be open about. It was refreshing to simply be in love without extenuating circumstances.

The sensation was short-lived, however. She was the Inquisitor, and he was her Commander. As they neared the Shrine of Dumat, they fell back into their public roles, their primary concern catching Samson to strike a blow against Corypheus. He still had his red lyrium armor, and they hadn’t discovered a way to disable or break it before leaving, but they couldn’t let their intelligence go stale. They had to strike now.

Cullen could feel the furious pull of the red lyrium before they entered the gates of the shrine. It tugged at his joints, tearing at his resolve. Its song was much louder than normal lyrium, pushing a heavy headache through his temples and behind his eyes. Nausea swirled in his gut, and he sucked air as dense as water into his lungs. He had to be there to help Halise—to protect her—but he was becoming afraid he would not be able to. He’d failed to anticipate the volume of red lyrium and the intensity of his reaction to it.

Her hands were on his face, holding his cheeks and jaw while she looked into his eyes. He hadn’t realized she was there until he felt her cool touch. Her expression was worry-worn and frantic.

“Cullen. Cullen, are you alright? You’re shaking and drenched in sweat.” She moved the back of her hand to his forehead, the chill of her skin a blessed relief. “You’re burning up.”

“The red lyrium,” he managed, “it’s worse than normal lyrium by a mile. I can go on, I’m alright.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” she asked, looking critically at him.

“Yes. Yes, I can continue.” He mostly believed it.

They proceeded into the shrine, and the fight against the Red Templars began in earnest. In spite of the effects of the lyrium, Cullen held his own alongside the others. He took a moment after ripping his sword from the corpse of a Red Templar knight to admire Halise as she leapt from a wooden platform while loosing several arrows into an archer across the courtyard. When the archer fell, Halise and the others pushed up the stairs toward the main door, only to be knocked back by a behemoth bursting through.

Halise was struck hard by the opening door, sending her flying several feet back into the stone railing. She groaned before drinking a potion and standing, rejoining the fray, but Cullen was incensed. Using his shield, he knocked the behemoth’s leg out from under it, sending it tumbling down the gray sandstone steps. He roared before he and Iron Bull ran down and began cutting into the beast. Fragments and crystals of red lyrium flew off of its body, forcing them to dodge after attacking. The monster began to stand, and Sera, Dorian, and Halise fired at it. Halise struck it in the face with an explosive arrow, causing it to stagger back. Sera followed with another explosive shot, and Dorian quickly unleashed a fireball. Together, they knocked the behemoth back to the ground, and Cullen raced to its neck. He slammed its head back and drew his sword across its throat.

Red lyrium-laced blood spewed forth from the open wound, splattering across Cullen’s face. It felt like dizzying acid, the sensation of burning and the call of the lyrium overtaking him. He shook his head in a vain attempt to free himself of the searing liquid, letting an agitated shout escape his throat.

“Cullen!” Halise screamed as she ran toward him. He felt her pull his waterskin from his belt, and soon the cold flood started to rinse the scalding blood from his flesh.

“Dorian! Potion!” he heard her shout. He was afraid to open his eyes. If the blood got in them he could succumb to the lyrium. He could be poisoned and lose himself. Lose Halise. No.

“It’s off your lips, Cullen. Swallow this.” The glass pressed against his lips. He took the bottle from her hand and drank it down. The bitter taste of elfroot washed across his tongue. He felt the remaining burn subside, then felt—and smelled—Halise’s moistened sleeve brush across his eyes. Once. Twice.

“Okay. Okay. Open your eyes for me, vhenan,” she said as she ran her hand down his arm. The timbre of her voice was less frantic, soothing even.

He obeyed, allowing his eyelids to split open. Light poured into his eyes, blinding him for a split second before they adjusted. Halise’s hair and skin glowed in the sun, as did her teeth. She smiled at him, relief washed over her expression. Before he could say anything, she threw her arms around his neck, clutching him to her hard. He reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Andraste’s tits, will you two knock it off?” Sera yelled plaintively. “We’ve got a greasy arsehole to catch, yeah? So let’s go catch him!”

Halise released Cullen’s neck from her tight grasp, pulling away from him slowly. “You can’t go in there,” she murmured. “The lyrium could kill you.”

Confusion crept across his face, creasing his brow. “What? No. You can’t fight Samson without me. He could kill you.”

“He could kill me if you’re there just as easily, maybe more so. If you fall in there, I’ll get distracted. And he’ll kill me, or he’ll kill Dorian, or Sera, or Iron Bull—”

“He won’t kill me,” Bull interjected.

She shot an irritated look at the Qunari, who just shrugged in response. “Either way,” she continued, “it’s too dangerous for you. I can’t allow it.”

For being a dutiful soldier, those words angered him much more than they should have. He bristled. “You can’t _allow_ it? Allow? You presume to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

Halise clenched her jaw and squinted hard at him before pressing her lips into a thin line. “I’m going to assume,” she said through gritted teeth, “that the exposure to all of this red lyrium is turning you into an _asshole_ , and not your prior relationship with Samson. But if you’re going to make me do it—You’re staying out here. As a matter of fact, you’re staying outside the gates of the shrine. That’s an order, Commander.”

He hated himself then. Shaking himself out of his lyrium-rage for as long as he could, he stammered, “I—I’m sorry, Halise.”

Her face softened slightly. “I know. But that doesn’t change anything. You’re still going to wait outside. I won’t see you suffer and I won’t see you killed. And I won’t have you getting me or them killed.” She gestured to her friends. “The more time we spend arguing about this the more likely it is that Samson will escape. So go.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned from him, traversed the steps, and entered the shrine. Cullen watched until long after she vanished, eventually resigning himself to his exit from the grounds. He knew she was right. Somewhere in him he knew she was right. But he couldn’t find that place within him in those moments. He simply stewed and fumed while he marched out.

After about five minutes outside of the walls, he saw smoke rising from the building. His heart lurched, but he waited. His mind had started to calm the moment he put the thick stone walls between himself and the mass of red lyrium. He knew that if Halise was still fighting in the shrine he could actually get her killed if he went charging in. If she was already dead…he wasn’t going to think about that.

Another fifteen minutes passed, and Cullen paced directly in front of the gates. His mind bounced back and forth between running in and staying out. He began to reason that he’d shown remarkable restraint in staying out up until that point.

Just as he girded to march back in, the gate slammed open outward. Halise came out first, face covered in ash and soot, marring her lovely skin and smeared across the vallaslin on her forehead and chin. She ran her fingers across her eyebrow before abruptly running to the opposite side of the open door and gagging into the dirt.

Cullen ran to her, grabbing her hair up into his gloved hands right as she vomited into the sand. Her marked hand was braced up against the wall, and like her face, it was coated in soot. The ends of her fingernails were nearly blackened by the accumulation of grime. After several dry heaves and thick coughs, she moved to stand. Cullen dropped her hair onto her back, watching to ensure she would not need him to pick it up again. She stepped to the side and pivoted, propping her back against the wall.

Between labored breaths, she said, “I couldn’t leave him there. Not fair. Had to get him out.”

When Cullen squinted at her and shook his head to indicate that he did not understand, she nodded toward the open gate before hunching forward to rest her hands just above her knees. He turned to see Iron Bull walking out of the gate with a man’s body draped over his shoulders. _Samson?_ No. The man wore the robes and bore the sunburst mark of a tranquil. Cullen looked closer at the man’s face.

“Maddox,” he very nearly whispered.

“Uh huh,” Halise sounded off from behind him between coughing fits. “He’s dead, but I couldn’t just leave him in there. Samson was gone not long before we got here, but Maddox and the Red Templars set the place on fire to stop us from finding anything and help Samson get away. Maddox poisoned himself. Nothing I could do.” More coughing. “Just thought he deserved to be buried.”

“He was the one shadowing us in the Emerald Graves,” Bull said as Halise covered her mouth with another wave of coughing. “Never would have suspected a tranquil spy. Gotta hand it to Samson. He knows how to think outside the box.”

“I hate to interrupt all of this positivity,” Dorian interjected sardonically, “but I also wanted to mention that we collected a great deal of Maddox’s equipment. Perhaps Dagna can use it to find some weakness in Samson’s red lyrium armor? She’s proven quite resourceful after all.”

Cullen heard Halise take a clean, deep breath and blow it out. “What they said,” she sighed, making a weak gesture in their general direction.

He snapped out of his overwhelmed haze, turning his full attention to Halise, who still leaned against the wall. “Are you alright?” His voice softened, worry overtaking any lingering effects of the red lyrium. He reached up and rubbed her back.

“I’m okay,” she replied, breath seemingly returning to her lungs. “It was just really smoky in there.”

“Aw, piss on it!” Sera interrupted, drawing Cullen and Halise’s eyes up toward her. “She said not to say, but she ran back in that stupid burning building to drag that lifeless arseface out!” She swung her arm toward Maddox’s body. “Wouldn’t let any of us go with her.”

He spun to face Halise, who had a guilty look plastered on her face. “What?!” He was teetering on the edge of seething anger once more. How could she put her life in danger knowing full well that she was the only person who could ultimately defeat Corypheus?

She held out both hands in front of her. “Listen, he wasn’t a bad man. He was made tranquil for sending love letters—Love letters! Even tranquil there was only one person to protect him, so he followed, and poisoned himself out of loyalty. No one saved his life either time. No one protected him! It was the least I could do to take him out of that building to bury him. He was not a bad man…” Her voice trailed off as she hung her head. She may have been crying, but Cullen couldn’t tell.

A complex blend of emotions bubbled within him. Anger at Halise endangering her life for the sake of the enemy puffed him up. Fear of losing her furrowed his brow, and shame forced his eyes to the ground. He was ashamed about his inaction when Meredith wielded the brand of tranquility against Maddox. All the man—really a boy all those years ago—had done was fall in love. The Circle didn’t allow lovers or family or any meaningful relationships outside of the tower. He blanched at the thought of what would have happened if he were in the same position when he met Halise. Being stripped of everything that made him, of all emotion, simply for love. No one protected him. She was right.

He had been silent for a moment too long. Halise turned her face back up to him, wiping more soot across her cheek while presumably brushing away a tear. “I know you’re angry, Cullen, but please understand why I had to do this.”

“I do,” he said, grasping at her hand. “You’re right. No one ever protected him. _I_ never protected him. I couldn’t. I was too weak. So you were right to grant him this final kindness, even though I wish you hadn’t risked your own life to do it.”

“What just happened?” Sera asked, dumbfounded.

“I do believe we’ve just witnessed something called ‘personal growth,’ Sera,” Dorian replied. “You should pay attention. Who knows, you might learn something.”

“Pfft. Right, cause I can learn sooo much from Commander Fuzzy Shoulders.”

Halise sputtered out a giggle. Cullen just rolled his eyes. She squeezed his hand and mouthed “thank you,” while the others turned to retrieve their mounts. He smiled back at her, pulling her to him in a gentle embrace.

“Aw Andraste’s arse, you two! Let’s go!”

Halise let out a breathy chuckle against him. “Coming, oh wise elfy one.”

“Who you calling elfy, you…you…Dalish elf who is way more elfy?! Shit. Just let’s go, alright?”

She laughed again, pulling herself from Cullen’s chest and leading him back toward their mounts, fingers intertwined. He watched her long hair swing with her labored stride in the sand, parting around her bow and quiver, all the while wondering how many more times he would almost lose her. Even when he was with her, he couldn’t protect her properly. It was his turn to trust her. She would always come back. She would _always_ come back. He mostly believed it.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> En. Ess. Eff. Doubleyou! (NSFW below!!!)
> 
> Also, song!!! Listen along [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2F2oEpif-6k)!

“That one?” Halise pointed to a burnished red-brown leather coat, one of three sitting on dressmaker’s dummies in Josephine’s office. One of the others was black, and the last was a sort of gray-ish tan.

“Excellent choice,” exclaimed the Orlesian tailor, the same one who had taken Cullen’s measurements before the ball at Halamshiral, and the only man in all of Thedas who still had them. “That coat is made from only the finest snoufleur and dragonling, giving it its distinctive color.”

Halise chewed on the inside of her lip. “What do you think, Josie?”

“I think it’s perfect for him!” Josephine replied, perhaps a bit more excited than Halise had anticipated. Although, she had mentioned once or twice being rather…less than fond of Cullen’s lion’s mane coat around Skyhold. She thought it was fine for battle, and rather suited Cullen’s personality, but that his persistence in wearing it more casually and frequently than that caused it to emit a somewhat unpleasant odor.

Halise couldn’t entirely disagree, having been face first in it more than once.

It was at Josephine’s suggestion, and with the imminence of Cullen’s name day being only one day away—though he refused to tell anyone but Halise, and only with her promise not to reveal the information to anybody else—that Halise thought to get him a new, somewhat armored jacket to wear when he wasn’t about to lead her troops into battle. She genuinely wanted him to like whatever she picked out.

“What is the lining?” she asked, rubbing it between her fingers. It was soft and smooth to the touch.

“Ah, yes. The lining is made of highever weave, which while being a lovely deep shade of red, also protects against electrical magic. A little-known fact,” the tailor preened.

He needed that with Halise’s little lightning buzzing across his back all the time. This was the right jacket for him. It was perfect, like Josephine said. If he liked it.

“Okay. Yes. The red one.”

Josephine clapped her hands and giggled. She must have hated the lion’s mane more than Halise realized. She was absolutely giddy. “He will love it! Well, coming from you he will love it,” she mused.

Outside of the tailor’s earshot, Halise whispered to Josephine, “I just want to add a little something to it tonight before I give it to him tomorrow. Do you know where I can get a needle and some gold thread?”

Josephine’s eyes widened, a sly close-lipped smile creeping across her lips. She flicked her gaze toward the tailor, then back to Halise before replying. “I think I know where we can find you some.” Then she winked. She actually winked.

Halise pressed her lips together to keep her laughter in, taking the now carefully folded jacket from the self-satisfied Orlesian. “Thank you,” she said, doing her best to maintain the stately air she had crafted for her time among the Orlesian nobility. She and the tailor bowed their heads toward one another.

“Inquisitor,” he said reverently before exiting Josephine’s office.

Halise ushered Josephine out of the room hastily. She had a lot of work to do before the morning.

*****

She had made it a habit to check in with her friends every day. It kept her grounded, and she felt better knowing where they stood, and that they were happy. Halise was by no means what some would call a “people pleaser,” but she liked seeing those close to her contented. It had only been just six months since their arrival in Skyhold, but she had accomplished much in service to her friends. She’d reunited Dorian with his father, however tempestuous the reunion. She helped Sera with some Red Jenny business, ending in a nobleman’s rather pulverized face. She avenged the death of one of Solas’s spirit friends that they had, unfortunately, not arrived in time to save. She’d refused an alliance with the Qun in favor of saving the Chargers for a number of reasons, chief among them her understanding of Bull’s closeness with his men. She and Varric helped Cole become more human through an act of forgiveness, only after hearing the horrible story of how the “real” Cole had died in a Circle tower, forgotten and starving. Through a series of complicated diplomatic maneuvers and promises, she managed to cancel a contract on Josephine’s life while simultaneously restoring her family’s ability to trade freely. She helped Leliana find a message from Justinia and cope with finally accepting her death without leaving a trail of blood in her wake. She and Cassandra managed to find the Lord Seeker, with disastrous results, but leading to Cassandra’s resolve to reform the Seekers. She helped Varric and his Bianca—the woman, not the crossbow—reseal a passage being used for the smuggling of red lyrium. Most recently, she’d acquired a new scar on her arm while retrieving the heart of a snowy wyvern for Vivienne, allowing her to wake Duke Ghislain just long enough for some final loving words before his death.

Halise did all of this without hesitation. However much danger she put herself in for any one of them, she knew her friends would do the same for her in a heartbeat. These were the people she could trust the most. On Cullen’s name day, before she went to see him, she stopped by to talk to everyone. They were all well, considering the inevitable conflict with Corypheus still loomed over them. But when she went to see Blackwall, his mood was melancholy, to say the least. He sat unusually still at the bar in the Herald’s Rest, staring into a full mug of ale. It was early—not long after breakfast—and the tavern was sparsely populated and quiet.

He must have heard her feet on the stone and wood floors approaching him, because he spoke to her without looking at her. “When I was a boy,” he began, “there were these urchins that roamed the streets near my father’s house. One day, they found a dog—wretched little thing—it came to them for food.”

Halise’s confusion at the subject matter mounted as he continued. “They caught it, tied a rope around its neck, and strung it up. Do you know what I did?”

A lump formed in her throat. Why was he telling her this? Why was he asking this question? She sat on the bar stool next to him. He did not look at her, unwavering in his focus on the mug. His expression was sorrowful. “I don’t know. Did you run and get help? Cut it down yourself?” she asked.

“No,” he spat. “I did nothing.” His visage morphed into one of revulsion and loathing. “It was crying. I saw the kicking legs, the neck straining, twisting. And I turned around, went inside, and closed the door. I could have told my father or alerted someone. I didn’t. I just pretended it wasn’t happening.” Disgust and agitation dripped unambiguously from his words.

Halise’s stomach twisted and ground itself into a cold nausea. She didn’t know how to respond—what she could say to make him feel better. “You were only a child, and everyone else ignored what was going on. I know that the cowardly acts of a group do not excuse each member, but you are the least responsible for what happened to that poor creature. You didn’t string it up, and you were powerless against a group of monsters. That does not make you a monster too.” That was the best she could do.

“I was old enough to know the dog was suffering and that it was wrong,” he retorted. “And I am just as responsible as those urchins and everyone else around. I may as well have tied the noose myself.” Blackwall finally looked up at her, sorrow tinging his brown eyes. “We could make the world better. It’s just easier to shut our eyes.”

“I don’t believe that,” Halise replied. “And I don’t believe that _you_ , out of all the people I have met in this lifetime, would be stopped from doing the right thing just because it was harder.”

He laughed almost bitterly. “Look at you. You would have done the right thing.” He turned back to his ale. “We’re lucky there are people like you in the world. There’s always some dog out there—some fucking mongrel that doesn’t know how to stay away. I don’t know that there is anything I can do to repent for what I’ve done—to be as good a person as you—but I’m going to try.”

His biting tone made his words feel like an insult. This was about more than a hanged dog from his childhood. She wanted to help, but she wasn’t sure if he would accept any of it the way he was talking. She asked anyway. “What can I do to help?”

Blackwall looked at her once more, the corners of his eyes wrinkled and thick beard shifting with his sad smile. “Of course you would ask to help a man in his efforts to atone. That’s the kind of woman you are, good down to your core. But only the man who has sinned can repent for those sins. You can’t help me. And for that I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she replied softly, placing a hand on his back to try and remind him that she was there for him. “If you think of something I can do, though, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

“There won’t be, but I’m grateful nonetheless.” Having apparently finished his end of the conversation, he refocused his gaze on the mug in front of him.

She let her hand slide down his back before walking away. The encounter had been unsettling, and she worried about her friend. He’d been such a staunch and honorable man for all the time she had known him, spending months together at Haven, Skyhold, and while travelling. Something was deeply amiss, but it was impossible for her to know what it was or to help if Blackwall wouldn’t confide in her. But she had never seen him in such a state. Halise resolved that she would check in with him first thing the following morning.

Decision made, she headed up the stairs onto the battlements to see Cullen.

*****

It was as if they were apart for weeks instead of a single day. Halise had been back from Emprise du Lion for two weeks already, but when she walked into Cullen’s office and behind his desk to wish him a happy name day, he rushed her without a word. He very nearly slammed her back into the stone wall behind his desk, pressing himself against her as firmly as he could with his breastplate between them while crushing his lips against hers with a smoldering kiss. Lacing the fingers on both their hands together, he drew her arms over her head, holding her there for a moment before running his atypically bare hands back down her arms and up her stomach under her tunic.

As he caressed her skin, she dropped her hands to his biceps, pushing only hard enough to separate their lips. Breaths still amalgamating in the scant space between their mouths, Halise let out a heady laugh. “Happy name day,” she whispered. Cullen’s eyes watched her mouth hungrily as she spoke.

He nipped at her lower lip before kissing her again, less fervently but just as passionately. While his hands stroked the soft skin around her waist, their tongues twined together. Cullen pushed her foot to the side with his, parting her legs. She felt his thigh press up into her, shooting a tingling pleasure up her spine and eliciting a short, high pitched moan. Spurred on by the sound, he pushed his thigh against her once more, causing her to tear her lips from his to gasp.

Cullen used the opportunity to spin her away from him, compressing her chest and stomach against the stone. Her hands rested on the wall on either side of her head, her face turned to look back at Cullen. His forcefulness brought a shiver through her body, arousal gripping her almost as tightly as his hands did. His fingers trailed down her back, coming to rest on her ass and squeezing with a growl. His mouth landed in the crook of her neck, planting kisses and bites along her neck and shoulder. His erection nudged her buttocks, and she rolled her hips, feeling it twitch with the added pressure and friction. He groaned and bit down hard on her shoulder, wresting a hedonistic cry from her throat.

When the door began to open, Cullen very nearly leapt off of her, backing away from her to put a publically appropriate distance between their bodies. They were near enough to the window that, as the soldier walked through on his watch rounds, Cullen pointed out the slim opening. “You see? I believe we need to establish more fortifications in that area of the valley. We’re exposed there.”

“Ah, yes I see,” she said seriously, playing along more for the sake of putting his mind at ease than their public perception. She had little doubt in her mind that all of Thedas knew what was going on between the two of them by then.

The opposite door creaked open, then closed. The sound of footsteps no longer audible, Cullen set upon her once more, grinding against her backside and lavishing her neck and shoulder with the tender but aggressive attentions of his mouth.

“Won’t they be back through?” she barely squeezed out through panting breaths.

“We have five minutes,” he replied between kisses and bites.

She pushed herself off of the wall, pivoting to face him. “That’s not enough time,” she said firmly. “Not for this.”

He growled, but gave up quickly, letting his forehead rest against hers. “It’s probably for the best, anyway,” he sighed. “I wanted to take you somewhere today.”

“Somewhere other than your bed?” she smirked.

His lips quirked into a shape mirroring hers. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“Well alright then.” She slid to the side, preparing for her exit from the room. “I’ll go ask Dennett to saddle our mounts. You take your time.” Her smirk turned into a toothy grin.

He shook his head. “Don’t say mount.”

She shut her eyes and crinkled her nose with the laughter that sprang from her chest. The sound of Cullen’s accompanying chuckle opened her eyes. The sight of his smile set her heart aflutter, as it tended to do. Her handsome Commander. With a final smile, she left his office and headed for the stables.

The place Cullen took her was not far, about a two hour ride from Skyhold. He told her they would be back by nightfall, so she decided to wait until then to give him his gift. He directed her to stop in a foggy wooded area. She smelled water, but was unsure whether it was the fog or an actual body of water. They tied up Moosh and Cullen’s horse against a pair of trees, the two having grown on each other with all of their recent rides together.

Cullen reached his hand back, gesturing for Halise to take it as they walked. She smiled and accepted it in hers, their fingers weaving together. As they walked, a lake came into view. A short wooden pier extended into the water in front of them, clearly old and worn, but sturdy. He walked her out onto the pier, turning to her when they neared the end.

“Where are we?” she asked, smoothly rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.

“You walk into danger every day. I wanted to take you away from that, if only for a moment,” he replied.

“But it’s _your_ name day.” She cocked her head at him questioningly, feeling her hair fall over her shoulder.

“And this is what I want to do to celebrate.” He gently brushed her hair back over her shoulder, his fingers ghosting across her neck. “I grew up not far from here. This place was always quiet.”

“It sounds like you were here a lot.”

“I loved my siblings, but they were very loud.”

Halise giggled softly at that. He continued, “I would come here to clear my head. Of course, they always found me eventually.” It was his turn to laugh.

“So, you were happy here.”

“I was. I still am. Especially now, with you.” His eyes drifted dreamily over the expanse of the water as he reached into his pocket. “The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training. My brother gave me this.”

In his hand sat a small gold coin. The imprint of a woman’s face and hair had been eroded down, presumably by years of sitting in his pocket and being rubbed by his calloused fingers. They both stared down at it as he spoke.

“It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck. Templars are not supposed to carry such things. Our _faith_ should see us through.” The way the word snapped out of him, Halise wondered at the current status of his faith—in the Chantry, in Andraste, and in her.

“I’m not sure it worked. From everything you’ve told me, it seems like you haven’t been all that lucky.” She pursed her lips and scrunched them to the left side of her face.

“I should have died during the Blight. Or at Kirkwall, or Haven—take your pick. And yet I made it back here. With you.” His voice softened, and she un-scrunched her lips, choosing instead to chew on the inside of the bottom one.

“Humor me,” he said, placing the coin in her hand. Her eyes widened. “We don’t know what you’ll face before the end. This can’t hurt.”

Her eyes began to water at the beauty and simplicity of the gesture. She closed the coin up in her hand, pressing it to her chest. “Thank you, vhenan. I’ll keep it safe.”

Cullen encircled her waist with his arms, pulling her close to him. “Good. I know it’s foolish but…I’m glad.” He brushed his lips over her forehead.

“There’s nothing foolish about it,” she replied as she put her hand on his cheek. “Everything counts now.”

He sighed as he smiled at her, tiny wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. Halise’s mind flashed to the image of Blackwall’s sad smile for the briefest instant before she shook it from her thoughts. With the hand still settled on Cullen's cheek, she pulled him to her. They shared a soft but lingering kiss before their lips parted. Filled with love, and remembering her plan for the evening, she dropped her hand from his face. Lacing their fingers together again, she smiled slyly at him before turning and tugging him in the direction of their mounts.

Upon their arrival back at Skyhold, Halise asked Cullen to take his horse and Moosh back to the stables and make sure Dennett fed them due to their evening arrival after the normal feeding time, then to check in with Cassandra in the armory about sword requisitions. As soon as he rounded a corner, she bolted up the stairs into the main hall, almost careening into several visiting dignitaries before reaching the door to her chambers. She excused herself as politely as she could from her doorway, racing up the stairs three at a time. She snatched up Cullen’s name day gift, then ran right back down and out of her quarters. Halise’s hair whirled about behind her as she descended into the kitchen, startling the cooks when she burst through the door.

“Inquisitor!” The head cook, a somewhat portly woman with lovely brown hair and eyes stood by the stoves with her hand over her heart.

“I’m so sorry!” Halise gently grabbed both the cook’s shoulders while darting past her toward the young dwarf whose aid she’d solicited the previous day.

The woman smiled at Halise as she approached, hazel eyes sparkling with the excitement of knowing she was part of Halise’s special plan and the secretive nature with which she had carried out her task. She thrust a copper tray filled with various meats, fruits, bread, and sweets forward. If Halise had learned anything from Halamshiral, it was that sweets were delicious and sugar helped keep her awake longer. She wanted to stay awake longer tonight.

“Thank you so, so much, Brenna. You’re amazing for helping with this. Again, please let me know soon how I can repay you!” Halise took the tray, giving the golden-haired dwarf a grateful look.

“Just being part of this is enough,” Brenna replied.

“I’ll throw in some soft Orlesian cheeses for good measure anyway!” Halise winked before turning on her heel to make her way to Cullen’s quarters before he got there.

“That’s not necessary, Inquisitor!” the dwarf shouted after her as she made her way through the still open door and started up the stairs.

“Halise!” she hollered over her shoulder, the sound of her voice reverberating through the narrow hallway. People still wouldn’t call her by her Mythal-forsaken name!

With Cullen’s new coat draped over her arm and the tray of food in her hands, she moved slightly slower, opening doors with her fingertips and backside instead of her hands. She crept across the battlements and into Cullen’s office. He was still in the armory. Cassandra, the surprise romantic, promised to keep him busy for at least 15 minutes while Halise got everything ready.

Resting one side of the tray on her hip, she carefully ascended the ladder to Cullen’s loft by hooking her elbow over the rungs with each tentative step up. The food wobbled and trembled with her slow ascension. Despite the new ache in her muscles from the unusual movement, she managed to get herself and everything else up to the top, setting the tray on Cullen’s nightstand and his coat on the bed before beginning to extricate herself from her tunic and breeches.

Halise slid her arms into the sleeves of the coat. This was the first time the sheer size of him had obviated itself so severely. She swam in the leather and cloth, and it hung off of her otherwise scantily clad body like a blanket. Her fingers barely poked out of the ends of the sleeves. She reconsidered wearing it for a moment, but quickly dismissed the idea. The plan was in motion, so all she had to do was wait there.

She took a moment to stare out of the massive hole in the roof, watching the stars twinkle into existence one by one in the darkening sky of the twilight. The wait was not a long one, however, and she heard Cullen open the door to the tower, his heavy footsteps making their way toward his desk. Halise took a deep, nervous breath, exhaling slowly before calling down to him.

“Cullen! I’m up here!”

The sound of shuffling feet and locking doors was followed quickly by the creak of the ladder under Cullen’s weight as he climbed. He was looking down when his head crested the floor of the loft, and he did not shift his gaze upward until he made it all the way up. When his eyes fell upon her, sitting there on his bed in nothing but her underwear and the immense jacket, he stopped cold. It worked.

She crossed her bare legs and ran her fingers over the leather lapel, grazing her breast as her fingers trailed down. “Do you like my new coat?” she asked innocently, biting the inside of her lip as visibly as she could.

“It’s too big,” he murmured. Cullen regarded her hungrily. The intensity of his eyes bored into her, stirring warmth in her core.

“Huh.” Halise tilted her head to the side. “It must be yours then. Would you care to try it on to make sure? You’d have to take your armor off first, though.” She uncrossed her legs, put her elbow on her thigh, and dropped her chin against the heel of her hand, her fingernails brushing against her lower lip.

She had never seen Cullen remove his armor so quickly. The metal clanged together as he very nearly hurled every piece onto his armor stand. Wisely, he also removed his boots before walking to the edge of his bed. Halise looked up at him from her position perched on the edge of the mattress, standing only when his shins nudged hers apart. He was so close that her chest pressed against the length of his body when she stood.

Halise inched her mouth as close to his as she could without allowing their lips to touch, looking defiantly into his honey-colored eyes. “Not so fast, Commander,” she whispered. Sidestepping him, she turned his body to face away from the bed with only the slightest touch of her index and middle fingers.

She gently pushed him onto the bed. He looked up at her as she began her dance, her hips swaying from side to side. She hummed a few notes of the song before she started singing.

 

_I stumble and I fall, your time is on my side_

_Don't make sense of it all, despite my foolish pride_

_It's got me on my knees, tearin' up my heart_

_I'm shakin' at my bones, tearin' me apart_

 

_When I can't get close to you_

_I come undone, I come undone_

_Come undone, babe, I come undone_

 

Halise undulated her hips, rolling her body and pulling at the jacket that had all at once become both too large and too restrictive. She dropped onto her knees and pulled off the coat, throwing her head back before rending it slowly from her slender frame. She dragged her nails up her thighs, her stomach, her still covered breasts, her neck, into her hair.

_Time will take its toll, time can break your heart_

_And if I had the chance, we'd never have to part_

_Took my only flame, took my one desire_

_Threw it all away when jumping in the fire_

_I can't get close to you_

_I come undone, come undone_

_Come undone, babe, I come undone_

 

Her hands hit the wooden floorboards hard as she began crawling toward him. Cullen’s chest and shoulders heaved with serrated breaths as he watched her approach his legs, then put her hands on his knees. She pushed them apart slowly—so slowly she knew he would feel every muscle in her hands against every muscle in his knees and thighs. After crawling between his legs, Halise rested her elbows on his thighs and began to unlace his breeches, already feeling his cock straining against the fabric. He reached down, snaring his fingers in the back of her hair to lift her face to his. She simply smirked in response. She grabbed at the back of the breeches, looking up at Cullen’s starved face to silently urge him to lift himself just enough for her to pull them past his hips. When the task was complete, she pulled the pants off one leg at a time, achingly slowly, for both of them.

_When the day is done I lay me down to rest_

_Everyone will see that I loved you the best_

_When all is said and done here simple and explain_

_And if I have the chance I'll do it all again_

_But I can't get close to you_

_I come undone, I come undone_

_Come undone, babe, I come undone_

 

Using Cullen’s thighs for leverage, Halise pushed herself into a standing position. As she stood, she arched her back, mouth passing only inches away from his hardness still trapped in his smallclothes. She felt the growing wetness pooling between her legs, forcing her to question how much longer _she_ could stand the tease. Reaching under her arm, she grasped at the end of her breastband, tugging on it to begin the slow unwinding. Cullen grabbed her waist, running his thumbs across her stomach. She turned away from him before reaching the end of her breastband, allowing her breasts to fall free out of his sight. Rotating her hips in slow, sweeping circular motions, her waist still in his hands, she backed up. One leg at a time, she straddled his lap, kneeling down onto him. She felt his forehead fall onto her shoulder as he let out a small groan.

_I'm not scared of the dark though you tangle and tease me_

_But worse than your bark you said you'd never leave me_

_The devil may care, but he don't please believe me_

_Oh love of my life, won't you let me down easy?_

_Undone, I come undone_

_Come undone, babe, I come undone_

_I come undone, I come undone_

_Come undone, babe, I come undone_

 

Her ass ground against him as she sang. His hands roamed up from her waist to her breasts, rough warrior’s fingers pinching and soothing her pert nipples. Halise reached behind her to grab the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it down in front of her. He had to move his hands off of her to get his shirt off, and she used the opportunity to step down from the bed. She twisted her arms into the air, then slid them back down her body, stopping to hook her thumbs into her smallclothes. She drew them down little by little, swaying her hips back and forth and rocking her smalls off with the rhythm of the song. Fully exposed, she let them drop to the floor. Stepping out of them, she turned to face Cullen.

His eyes were nearly black. She crept back on top of him, her feet dangling off of the edge of the bed next to his knees. Like she had done with his breeches, she tugged on the back of his smallclothes to encourage him to help her take them off. Instead of allowing her to do it, however, he cupped his hand under her ass and stood, lifting her with him while yanking his smalls down with his free hand. He kicked them off hastily, dutifully repositioning them on the bed just as Halise finished singing. Her breath hitched in her throat when her slickness ground against his hardness.

She wove her left hand into the back of his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck to her. While she ran her tongue from the notch at the base of his throat up to his mouth, she grabbed his cock with her right hand, guiding him into her. Both of them tensed and moaned in unison. Cullen pulled her as flush against him as he could, thrusting up into her. She cried out loudly, certain the sound flew from the hole in the roof into the ears of every person within a mile of the tower.

Cullen’s hands traveled around her hips and waist and shoulders and back and into her hair. The feeling of his well-trained warrior’s hands on her bare flesh made her quake with want. She rolled her hips against him, filling herself with him as deeply as she could. Their mouths and tongues danced together, sometimes delicately and sometimes almost painfully hard. She rode him to her brink, feeling herself nearing climax and willing it to happen. Tearing her mouth from his, she held her breath, pushing harder—faster. Cullen groaned and bit down hard on her neck, hurling her from the brink over the edge. Halise threw her head back and screamed. Powerful shudders overcame her in waves, but Cullen continued to buck his hips up into her pushing her orgasm as far and as long as it would last before she slowed her movements. Her little lighting sparked against the back of his neck, eliciting a lustful grunt.

The pause was only momentary, and only a result of Cullen’s consideration of her briefly increased tenderness. After a few seconds, he put both hands on her ass, digging his fingers into her malleable muscle as he drove into her.

“Ah! Cullen!” she keened. Their rhythmic panting breaths heated the air around them while she began to undulate against him again.

“Halise,” he growled into her collarbone, reaching between their bodies to drag his fingers across her nipple. She felt him withdraw his mouth from her neck and grip the back of her hair firmly, holding her still enough to begin kissing anew. He was close. So was she.

Her thighs grew tired as she pushed herself onto him as hard as she could. The second wave of pleasure began to overtake her just as she felt Cullen’s cock pulse within her. Shuddering moans escaped both their throats, every muscle tensing and relaxing all at once. She allowed her head to fall back, watching the stars from her orgasm dance among the stars in the sky. When the first faded away, she turned her attentions back to Cullen, whose head rested in the crook of her neck. She hugged him to her as tightly as she could, remaining on top of him for some time. “I love you” passed back and forth between them what must have been a dozen times.

Finally, Halise decided to ask the tough question. She spoke tentatively as she asked, “So…do you like the coat?”

Cullen’s body rumbled beneath her with boisterous laughter. “I love it,” he replied, pressing a kiss on the point of her vallaslin between her eyebrows.

“Happy name day,” she said, a smile stuck to her lips, even when she kissed him. Oh, how she loved him. How grateful she was that he had lived long enough for them to meet, for them to become friends, for them to fall in love. In that moment, with their skin pressed together and limbs tangled, all she could feel was her adoration for this man. The love of her life, however long it was destined to be.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a lovely name day celebration! ^_~ 
> 
> The lyrics used in this chapter were taken from Mark Lanegan and Isobel Campbell's song, "Come Undone," which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2F2oEpif-6k). You may recognize Mark's voice from Queens of the Stone Age, and Isobel is a pretty awesome solo artist. I recommend you check them out, but especially their albums together.
> 
> I feel weird not having uploaded in, like, five days. I appreciate everyone's patience with me and stick-to-itiveness! I was working and then out of town, so I stayed up extra late to finish this chapter because I wanted to get it up for you! I hope the wait was worthwhile. ^_~ Side note, writing a double striptease is harrrrd! I hope it worked.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	35. Chapter 35

“Why?!” Halise shouted at Leliana. Not really _at_ her, but she was the messenger carrying the worst kind of news. Blackwall had fled Skyhold, and the Inquisition, leaving only a note propped up for Halise to find on a wooden Griffon he’d been carving. Cullen could scarcely understand his reasons from the note alone, which read simply:

 

_Inquisitor,_

_You’ve been a friend and an inspiration. You’ve given me the wisdom to know right from wrong and, more importantly, the courage to uphold the former._

_It’s been my honor to serve you._

 

Halise had shrieked when she found it in the stables. Having only just left Cullen’s tower, he heard her and came running, skipping steps the whole way. Fear of an attack or that she’d been injured somehow tore at him as he ran. But he found her standing with her hand over her mouth, holding the letter so tightly that she crinkled the paper in her fingers. She looked furious, but Cullen also saw tears welling in her eyes as she handed him the parchment.

The juxtaposition between the formal and informal struck him first after the realization that Blackwall had left. The Warden knew how much Halise hated being called “Inquisitor,” yet that was how he addressed the letter. He called her a friend, but said it was an honor to serve her. Cullen understood how that must have felt for Halise. She thought Blackwall was her friend, and she never once felt as if he served her. The inequity of such a concept was so contrary to who she was at her core, it was unfathomable to her. At Dumat she had ordered Cullen to stay outside only because she knew she had to appeal to his sense of duty to override the influence of the red lyrium. He knew she never believed that he served her, even if he believed he did.

With all this in mind, Cullen had followed as Halise grabbed his hand and led him to the war room to find out where Blackwall went.

The night and morning before Blackwall’s disappearance had been amazing for Cullen. Halise again reminded him of the kindhearted Maker-sent vision she was. She’d danced so enticingly for him—intentionally this time—they made love, ate and talked for most of the night, and she bestowed upon him a most thoughtful name day gift. The new coat she gave him was pliant and comfortable, but surprisingly well armored and protective. She explained the materials as he tried it on, noting the electrical resistance in the lining to stop her from shocking him so frequently—though, truth be told, he’d come to appreciate and enjoy the implications and sensation of the tiny jolts. He had no idea when Halise had found the time, but she’d embroidered a golden sword crossed and intertwined with a branch-like Dalish bow into the spot on the lining that settled directly over his heart.

“So we’ll always be together in your heart,” she had chimed softly when he held open the jacket and ran his finger over the design. She lay in his bed, head propped up on her hand, foot dangling loosely over the edge, wearing his tunic, watching him with joy-filled, smiling green eyes glowing under the morning sun dappling through the hole in his roof. Tiny flecks of ever-airborne dust and flora glittered like a halo of embers around her red curls. Long fiery tendrils hung about her pale shoulders that stood soft and firm like snow that refused to melt under the heat of his gaze.

This had been another moment for him to take in carefully. To remember fully. He meticulously noted every detail of her then. Her barely visible freckles. The volume of red hair bunched up in her hand as she held up her head. The curve and point of her alabaster ears peeking out from her mass of red waves and curls. The stretch of the vallaslin on her chin when the ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips. The way the drape and gauzy fabric of his large tunic on her small frame revealed the details of her figure, both supple and unyielding. The natural parting of her dusky pink lips, exposing her wide white teeth.

He’d stepped over to the bed and smiled warmly down at her. Halise lifted the hand that had been resting on her hip and locked her pinky with his, her eyebrows raised questioningly. The minute gesture somehow managed to impress upon him the full weight of their intimacy and devotion to one another.

“It’s wonderful,” he said, hoping the sincerity of his voice told her everything. “Perfect.”

She beamed up at him. Cullen leaned down, resting his free hand on the back of the one holding her head up, and placed a kiss on her forehead, then another, somewhat chaste one on her lips.

After that moment, Halise had realized that the day was getting away from them. They dressed side by side—and Cullen put on his new coat—as she mentioned wanting to check on Blackwall because he seemed off the previous day. Cullen understood that what had happened at Adamant likely affected Blackwall more than even he could have known at the time. He’d seen his once proud organization cut down and shamed, then fell into the Fade to be attacked and hounded for an hour by a demon. It was natural that the initial shock would have worn off, leaving the unmistakable mark of trauma in its wake. Cullen encouraged Halise to check on him before they shared one more kiss. She walked out of his tower, and moments later he heard the scream that shattered the moment of respite they had shared.

Halise was shouting at Leliana because the spymaster had just told her that Blackwall fled to Val Royeaux, but could not seem to explain why. The only activities of note in the coming days were a ball to be thrown by a minor noble house, a wedding, and an execution in the city center. Over the ensuing hours, Cullen, Halise, Leliana, Josephine, and even Morrigan poured over the guest lists to the ball and the wedding, finding nothing to connect to Blackwall. Halise ultimately decided to go to Val Royeaux and search for him herself. Hurt and fury swirled about behind her eyes as she turned from them to gather her party for the trip.

“I need all of you on standby to come to Val Royeaux. Be ready to meet me there if you get a raven,” she snarled without looking back as she walked out of the war room. Cullen watched her stalk off, genuinely afraid that this loss would break her.

A day and a half later, a raven flew through the hole in his roof.

 

_Need more about Thom Rainier. Have Nightingale find the tale. Meet me in VR at the cages in the market._

 

Apparently Halise had taken to her more recent cryptic style. For the most part, Cullen knew what she meant, and the manner in which she wrote the note—mysterious and pressing down angrily on the pen from the thickness of her letters—was likely because she was talking about a member of her inner circle. Any enemy of the Inquisition would relish the opportunity to obtain harmful or secretive intelligence that they could use to hurt Halise or tear apart the organization from the inside out.

Note in hand, Cullen made his way from his tower into the rookery. His new red umber coat hung comfortably on his shoulders, buckled over his stomach, but unfastened and open over his chest, buckles jingling lightly. In truth, he was more vulnerable, but he felt more protected than he ever had in his armor—freer. He couldn’t feel the little patch over his heart, but he felt stronger knowing it was there.

He passed by Solas in the rotunda, who gave him an inexplicably disapproving look. Cullen squinted and cocked his head, taken aback by the elf’s unexpected ire, but kept moving up the stairs into the rookery. Leliana was sitting next to a stack of missives and messages from her network of spies. Cullen wondered at how she was able to spend hours at the war table with them when she had hundreds of people travelling through thousands of places sending her encrypted notes every day.

“Commander,” she greeted without turning to him.

“It is very unnerving when you do that, Leliana.” He hated that she could tell it was him without looking. She did it a lot.

“How can I help it if you have a distinctive walk?” She finally turned, looking at him with a smirk. Her eyes flashed down to the parchment in his hand. “Finally here about the Thom Rainier situation?”

“I should have known you already knew,” he replied, shaking his head with a subtle smile.

“It _is_ my job to know the goings on before everyone else, after all,” she shrugged. This was true. “In any case, I’ve already compiled a report containing his known background and history. His crimes are sordid, even for an Orlesian power grab.”

Cullen took the report as she handed it to him from her still-seated position. He held it up in a gesture of gratitude. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She rotated back to her reports, giving a small wave to signal that he was dismissed. He shook his head again before turning to leave. “I’m glad it wasn’t you,” he heard Leliana chirp from behind him.

“What?” He spun to face her again.

She spoke without moving. “I’m glad it wasn’t you who broke her heart,” she said, nonchalantly taking another report from the top of the pile.

A heavy sigh escaped his chest as he rubbed the back of his neck. “As am I,” he replied softly before heading for the stairwell. It was true, but more than being glad he hadn’t hurt Halise, he wished no one had.

*****

The ride to Val Royeaux was not a terribly long one. Cullen rode through the better part of the night, arriving in the city several hours after dawn. Not truly knowing where Halise was, he headed to the marketplace. That, at least, he could discern from her note. He wandered through the market, looking for cages, befuddled when he noticed that most stalls held chickens and other animals in cages for sale.

“Cullen!” he heard a man’s voice shout. Dorian’s voice?

His head and eyes darted in every direction, scanning the crowd for the man. In any non-Orlesian circumstances, Cullen suspected that Dorian would have been much easier to see.

“Cullen!” A waving olive-skinned hand became visible in the throng, Cullen’s eyes followed the hand down to a bare shoulder, then up to Dorian’s face. Small relief flooded through the back of his mind as he approached his friend.

Having made his way through the majority of the crowd between the two of them, Sera’s blonde hair and red tunic became visible next to Dorian. Her arms were crossed under her breasts, scowl planted firmly on her face. Her nose and eyes were red and swollen, gaze averted to the ground.

“Dorian,” Cullen sighed, “thank the Maker you saw me. I couldn’t make heads nor tails of the last bit of Halise’s note—about the cages.” They clasped each other’s forearms in greeting when Cullen grew close enough.

“Jail,” Dorian said matter-of-factly. “It meant ‘jail.’” His face was incredibly serious.

Cullen’s stomach dropped at the word. He should have noticed from the smell—only barely covered by the scent of fish, meat and perfume from the marketplace—that they were standing in front of a prison. The stench of piss and shit and despair and death crept out from under the door into his nostrils. An unfortunately all too familiar scent for a former Templar Knight-Captain.

“Fucking beardy…lying bastard,” Sera sniffed and spat, voice cracked from crying. “Piss on it.” She kicked the only rogue stone around before marching of to the side of the building and slamming her back against the wall, knocking her bow and arrows about with a clatter.

Cullen’s brow furrowed as he watched her for a moment before turning back to Dorian. “What’s going on? I read the report on Thom Rainier before coming here, but I don’t understand the connection.”

Dorian crossed his arms. “Blackwall is Thom Rainier. Or, Thom Rainier is Blackwall. You choose. Either way, He stepped onto the gallows to stop a man named Mornay from being hanged and took the blame for the crime. Said he ordered it or some such nonsense. Now he’s gone and gotten himself locked up and scheduled for execution.” He waved his hand toward the jail door.

The pieces started coming together then. “Where is Halise?” Cullen asked, voice lower given his new understanding of the sensitivity of the matter.

“She’s inside talking to him right now, undoubtedly trying to figure out whether to save him or not. Truly, it was unfair of him to force her into this position, even if he was trying to do the ‘honorable’ thing—whatever that is.”

Wordlessly, Cullen opened the over-cheerfully blue door to the jail. The unmistakable smell hit him like a stone wall this time, sending his mind back to Kinloch and Kirkwall—the reek of hate and anger and despair. Pushing against the scent and his thoughts, he made his way inside, nodding at the guards standing next to the barred but open door leading to the cells. He took up a position next to one of the guards, not wanting to interfere with Halise’s conversation and assessment. Then he heard her beautiful voice chime from down the bleak hallway.

“I need you to tell me more about the _real_ Blackwall,” she said. Her voice reached Cullen’s ears with an echoed, ethereal distance.

Then the deep sound of Blackwall’s—Rainier’s voice bounced through the hallway. “We met in a tavern when I was on the run. I was nothing, a waste of life, but he wanted to recruit me. We headed to Val Chevin for the Joining, but Blackwall insisted on making a stop along the way. An old ruin from one of the previous Blights. He said it led to the Deep Roads. I was to go down alone, find a darkspawn, and fill a vial with its blood. When I returned, I found the Warden ambushed by more of the creatures. He took a blow for me. He shouldn’t have died. It should’ve been me.”

Cullen wondered if he agreed with that sentiment. Rainier had commanded a group of mercenaries to kill a man and his family at the behest of some nobleman who thought he could garner favor from the “true emperor,” whoever that was meant to be. They’d slaughtered the man and his wife and children in an ambush. Most of Rainier’s men were captured easily enough, but it was as if Rainier had vanished from all of Thedas. He had certainly done a horrible thing, but years had passed since then, and he’d spent the entire time doing good under his assumed name.

“ _He_ sounds like a hero, worthy of praise,” Halise’s voice echoed. “And clearly he thought you were worth saving. Why do you have such a problem with that?”

“No one should have died for me,” Blackwall grumbled. “He…he would have wanted me to carry on to Val Chevin, I’m certain. But without Blackwall, there was no proof that I’d been recruited, that I didn’t kill him. I couldn’t go to the Wardens, but I couldn’t just walk away. So, Rainier died, and Blackwall lived.”

“That,” she said firmly. “That right there. That is why you were worth saving. You’re intelligent and thoughtful, and you couldn’t stand to let the world swallow another good man, so you became one yourself.” A pregnant pause filled the air. “I have a lot to think about. That’s all for now.”

“As you wish,” Rainier replied. He sounded deflated, resigned.

The unmistakable sound of Halise’s rapid footsteps came closer, stomping down the hall before climbing the stairs. She rounded the door near Cullen, looking straight ahead as she very nearly ran right past him. In her focus she hadn’t seen him. He stepped toward her before she could exit.

“I have Leliana’s report on Thom Rainier,” he said gently, but loud enough to get her attention.

She froze in place for a moment before turning and walking back over to him. Her face was hard, jaw clenched, with anger and sorrow in her eyes. Cullen handed her the report, but her eyes seemed to glaze over when she started to read it.

“What does it say?” she asked. The timbre of her voice was low and raspy. She’d been crying. Probably the previous night.

“Looks like our friend,” Cullen used those words deliberately, “was once a respected captain in the Imperial Orlesian Army. Before the civil war, he was turned, persuaded to assassinate one of Celene’s biggest supporters. He led a group of fiercely loyal men on this mission, and told them nothing of it. His men took the fall for him. A few lucky ones, like Mornay, managed to escape.”

Halise held the paper up. “Thanks for this. It’s…educational.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Cullen said, wishing he could hold her, or at the very least touch her arm. “What should we do now? Blackw—Rainier has accepted his fate, but you don’t have to. We have resources.”

He didn’t want her to let Rainier die. The man did some dishonorable things, to be sure, but he had spent so much more time doing good. Perhaps Cullen saw something in the man that resembled himself. He regretted so many of his actions in the past, counting them in numbers much higher than the one major mistake Rainier had made. If Rainier could not atone in his lifetime, how could Cullen?

“If he’s released to us, you may pass judgment on him yourself,” he finished.

Halise looked into Cullen’s eyes. “If it were up to you, what would happen?” she asked.

He was grateful she wanted his opinion on the matter, though she may ultimately choose to ignore it. He hoped she wouldn’t. “What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable. He betrayed their trust, and ours, and I am furious at him for it. And yet he fought as a Warden. Joined the Inquisition. Bled for our cause. And the moment he shakes off his past, he turns around and owns up to it. Why?” He asked the question not because he didn’t know the answer, but to press her realization that they were alike.

Her gaze seemed to shift with her understanding. “He wanted to change. To prove that he’d really left his past behind, he had to face up to it.” She looked at the ground, eyes darting back and forth, searching for an answer in the stones. “Have him released to us.”

Cullen nodded quietly. He watched as she clenched and unclenched her jaw over and over. Her lips pursed slightly and he could hear her swallow thickly. She was fighting back tears as hard as she could, not wanting to cry in front of the Orlesian jailers.

Cullen looked to one of them. “Is there a private room here? The Inquisitor and I must confer on what our next course of action shall be.”

The guard nodded. “The Warden’s office is just through here. He’s stepped out for the rest of the day, so it’s empty.”

“Inquisitor.” He swept his hand toward the door. “If you would?”

Halise nodded silently, walking into the room ahead of Cullen. He followed, turning his back on her only to lock the door behind him. Her shoulders were slumped over when he pivoted to face her again. He stepped in front of her, putting his hands on her biceps to steady her.

She sniffed loudly before falling into him, curling herself against him with her forehead on his neck. Without a word, she began to sob heavily. Cullen wrapped an arm around her waist, the other hand gently stroking the back of her head as she wept. Small squeaks and loud wails alternated out of her before he felt her slim fingers on his chest. Her knees seemed to give way, and the two of them sank to the floor together. They kneeled on the stone as she grasped at the exposed part of his tunic under his coat.

“Why did he lie to me?” she cried into his collarbone. “W-Why didn’t he think he could tell me?”

“He lied to everyone,” Cullen replied softly. “And in the end, you were the one who inspired him to tell the truth to the world—to own up to his actions.”

“I didn’t need him to tell the world. Just me.” Sniffles and hiccups punctuated her words, her voice tinged by the stuffiness of her nose.

“That wouldn’t have been enough. You know that.”

She sniffed loudly. “I know…I know, but I shouldn’t have had to find out like this.” Her body shuddered in his arms with her shaky breaths.

“You’re right.” He kissed the top of her head before continuing. “But this is where we are now, and it’s up to you to decide what happens next.”

Halise pulled her head from his neck, and he looked down into her wet green eyes. “I’m going to set him free,” she said frankly. “He has far and away made up for his mistakes. If he really wants to go and be a Warden, I’ll let him go. If he wants to stay with us, I’ll welcome him back with open arms. He’s not a bad man. He just fucked up.” She dropped her head back against Cullen’s shoulder with the last sentence. He agreed, silently relieved.

True to her word, Halise freed Rainier with Josephine’s help, using the Inquisition’s influence to “strongly suggest”—Josephine’s words—that the Inquisitor be the one to judge one of her own at Skyhold, despite the crimes having been committed against Orlesians. Rainier seemed to feel worse at having Halise use her power to free him, but she didn’t let that change her mind. She told him his life was his to do with as he would, to atone in his own way, whether with the Inquisition or otherwise. He thought for a moment before pledging himself to the Inquisition as Thom Rainier. Halise accepted with a sad smile, ordering the guards in the main hall of Skyhold to remove his shackles.

She glanced at Cullen, who stood beside her the whole time, and mouthed, “Thank you.”

He smiled softly at her, mouthing back, “I love you,” as subtly as he could.

The smile on her lips reached her eyes, removing some of the sorrow there. Turning from him, she left her throne to walk out of the main hall with Rainier, her hand on his back as they spoke. This had been the right thing to do.

Having realized the parallels between himself and Rainier, Cullen began to understand that his work to atone for his actions was worthwhile. It couldn’t be enough to right his wrongs, but it could be enough to better the world. That had seemed far and away satisfactory to Halise. Perhaps one day it could even be enough for Cullen. Perhaps.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall's deceit was always one of the hardest parts for of the game for me, mostly because I just couldn't see him as a bad guy. He's one of my favorite companions, so I hope I did this bit justice.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	36. Chapter 36

“Why?” Halise asked Morrigan quizzically. “Why does Corypheus want to come here?” She spread her arms out wide, spinning slowly to indicate the strange world around her.

Morrigan had called it “The Crossroads,” a place both within and outside of the Fade, created by Halise’s ancestors, the ancient elves. It could only be reached by using an eluvian, which looked like a tall, stained mirror and needed specific magic to activate it. The place was somewhat foggy, gray, and dim, but still beautiful to Halise’s eyes. Old twisted trees sprung up from the ground. Ancient sculptures and architecture were smattered about the space. Eluvians, both active and inactive sat dormant by the dozens, causing Halise to wonder where they all led, or where they once led.

“This…is not the Fade, but it is very close,” Morrigan replied. “Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers.”

Ah. It made more sense now. “And enter the Fade in the flesh. Like Corypheus wanted to do with the anchor.” Halise glared at her marked hand. The anchor. Despite the power to close rifts, its intended purpose was so much worse. Corypheus wanted to enter the Fade and take over, presumably to rip such a large hole in the Veil that the Fade could overtake Thedas and the rest of the world. He could take over the world.

“He has learned of the eluvian in the Arbor Wilds, as I did, and he marshals the last of his forces to reach it.”

Halise followed Morrigan back toward the eluvian that the witch had brought to and opened in Skyhold. Morrigan stopped short of walking through, turned to Halise and said, “You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor.” Ech, title. “We must work together to stop him, and soon.”

With that, the dark-haired woman stepped back through to Skyhold. Halise looked around her once more, uncertain she would ever see the unique space again. When she did finally walk back through, the magic in the eluvian felt somewhat like a membrane. Crossing through it gave her a chill, leaving goosebumps on her arms. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, as if waiting to face some inevitable danger. Halise had little doubt that there _was_ some degree of danger in using the magic doorways, but couldn’t help her fascination with the devices’ history. The Elvhen were once the most powerful race in Thedas, and it was becoming difficult to imagine how Tevinter could have overtaken them to rule the land under any set of circumstances.

After reaching the other side and seeing that Morrigan had already left—typical—Halise turned back toward the eluvian and brushed her fingers across her brow before sliding them up her scalp and weaving them together at the back of her head with a sigh. She stood like that, with her elbows out to the sides, for several moments while she processed everything she had just learned. In less than six minutes, much of what she thought she knew of Elvhen history toppled, forcing her to question the people she had once trusted most. Her clan’s Keeper and her parents told her the stories of the past, and though they likely didn’t know any better, Halise couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been lied to. If generations of elves had been lied to.

With another sigh, she dropped her arms back to her sides, deciding to go to the undercroft to check on Dagna’s progress with Maddox’s equipment. With Samson not having been at the Shrine of Dumat, and being the commander of the Red Templars, Halise knew she would certainly have to face him when they went to the Arbor Wilds. She wanted to be prepared for that fight. Better equipped than she had been at Dumat where the sheer volume of red lyrium nearly sent Cullen into a blind rage, and caused her to feel weak, dizzy, and vomit several times. Cullen had only seen the one, and Halise was grateful to Sera for only running her mouth about Maddox and not the ill effects of the lyrium.

Sera also happened to be in the undercroft with Dagna, leaning over her shoulder as she worked on yet another mysterious magical item. Harritt stood as far away from them as he could get, watching them out of the corner of his eye while he stretched some leather for a new piece of armor. The sight brought a smile and breathy chuckle from Halise.

“What’s this do?” Sera asked, reaching forward, undoubtedly to poke something she shouldn’t.

“That’s used to distill the magical essence before fusing it with the rune,” Dagna answered patiently.

“What’s this?” Sera lurched forward again.

“That’s—No don’t—” Dagna’s voice was interrupted by a loud popping sound and a plume of icy smoke that sent a chill through the whole room—if it could be called that with the only three walls and a giant cliff where the fourth should be.

Halise squeaked at the tiny explosion, drawing Dagna and Sera’s attentions to where she stood behind the railing of the stairs leading down to the main floor. When they turned to her, she saw that both their faces were covered in something resembling snow. Ice gripped onto their eyebrows, lashes, and Sera’s uneven fringe, and their lips and cheeks bore dozens of gentle snowflakes. They looked like bewildered, frozen undead. Halise clapped her hand over her mouth before she shut her eyes and laughed. Her whole torso shook with the force of her jubilation at the sight of the frosty pair, and soon she ripped her hand from her mouth to prop herself up on her knees while she guffawed.

Just as her giggling fits died down, she looked up at them again, and pointed and laughed harder at their confused, icy faces.

“Right, what’s so funny?” Sera asked plaintively.

Halise could barely breathe to answer, and most of her words were interrupted by more giggles. “You don’t—You can’t—You can’t feel it? On your faces?” More chortling. “You should see—You should see your faces!”

She heard Harritt snicker from the other side of the room. “Look at you lot,” he chuckled. “Iced over like druffalo in a snow storm!”

Halise very nearly screamed with laughter at that. Not necessarily because it was funnier, but because it was so true. She clamped onto the railing with both hands, leaning forward to combat the ache in her abdominal muscles and wiping tears from her eyes. She heard Sera and Dagna start tittering, clearly having finally looked at each other. This went on for several minutes before the ice dissipated and everyone’s laughter finally simmered away.

“Okay,” Halise said as she descended the steps, wiping the final vestiges of her exultation from under her eyes. “Dagna, what have you got for me to deal with Samson’s red lyrium armor?”

“Ooh!” Dagna pointed at Halise, then very nearly hopped over to a nearby table to grab something. “This!” She held forward a round silver and glowing red rune.

“A rune? What does it do?” Halise asked as she took the object from Dagna, turning it over and examining it.

“It acts on the median fissures of the red lyrium to vibrate the stone and anything infused with it apart,” she replied excitedly. “Like how an earthquake can spread little cracks in the ground into giant canyons. Or knock down walls, like that one.” Dagna pointed to the place the fourth wall should have been.

“Okay! So all I have to do is activate this and it will break Samson’s armor right off his body?” The excitement was infectious.

“Right! You have to be kind of close to him, but it’ll destroy his armor.” The exuberant dwarf made an exploding motion with her hands.

“I like the sound of that,” Sera chimed in from behind Dagna. “Break that stupid armor so we can break the arse wearing it!” She closed one eye and pantomimed loosing an arrow down low. “Pow! Right in the danglebag!”

Halise grinned and turned her attention back to Dagna. “This is fantastic! Thank you, Dagna!” She fought the urge to scoop her up and hug her, though she suspected the dwarf might not have minded if she and Sera were getting on as well as it seemed.

“That’s my Widdle,” Sera preened. “Smart and brilliant at exploding things.” She crossed her arms proudly before looking at Dagna, eyes betraying the deep affection between them. Halise smiled at the two of them, glad not to be alone in finding love amidst the chaos.

Dagna blushed and looked down. “Aw, thanks you two. All in a day’s—well a few weeks’—work! If you need anything else, Halise, please let me know.”

“Will do,” Halise said as she turned to head back upstairs with the rune in hand, grateful that Dagna was not quite as fond of using the title as everyone else. She heard them continue their conversation after walking through the open door.

“You know what else you should make explode?” Sera asked suggestively.

“Bees?” Dagna replied.

“ _That’s_ why I love you!” Sera shouted, bringing a wide smile to Halise’s face before she shut the door behind her. Those two were made for each other.

*****

The journey to the Arbor Wilds took three weeks. Had Halise and her team been riding alone, it likely would have taken about one at even a leisurely pace. But with the full might of the Inquisition’s forces marching with them and agents scouting ahead, the trip was much slower. Most were not on horseback, and were forced to trek on foot through the changing terrain. Halise felt guilty being able to ride Moosh the whole way, so if she saw a soldier, healer, or anyone else looking exhausted, she would dismount and hoist them onto his back for a few hours. It gave her the chance to talk to her people up close, to feel some level of camaraderie with them. She worried she’d spent too much time with her inner circle, and not enough getting to know the men and women who fought for her.

Walking also gave her a chance to see Cullen with his men. He dismounted somewhat frequently, by and large to monitor the soldiers, but also to offer tips on how to avoid injury and carry heavy weaponry and shields more comfortably over long distances. He would walk alongside her in short bursts, pretending to confer with her while brushing their fingers together. Halise’s heart still raced when they touched, forcing her to take deep breaths to calm herself and avoid revealing her affections so openly. Still more for his sake than hers.

When the forces arrived at the edge of the Arbor Wilds, camps and siege equipment were set up in a whirlwind. Before anyone knew it, night had fallen, and the last dinner was being served before the battle began in the morning. A mass of Orlesian soldiers joined up with them during set up and sat well dispersed among the Inquisition soldiers for the meal. Ferelden, Orlesian, and those from everywhere in between ate together harmoniously, with wicked grace games breaking out all over the camp. Laughter rang out, echoing through the wooded valley in which the camp had been erected. Thedas was uniting against its common enemy, a thought that strengthened Halise’s resolve.

She made a point of walking while she ate, giving time to as many people as she could manage as she spooned mutton stew into her mouth. Despite not understanding the veneration she’d received throughout Thedas, she knew that personal time with the Inquisitor could be valuable for morale. As she had told Cullen by the lake on his name day, everything counted. So she walked for two hours, meeting as many of her soldiers and people dedicated to the fight as she could. When she passed by Cullen, who ate with Cassandra, Michel de Chevin, and several of the soldiers that had been with the Inquisition from the beginning, she let her fingertips slide across the back of his neck.

“Commander,” she purred when he turned to her.

“Inquisitor,” he replied, his gaze seeping into her like molasses. Thick, sweet, and warm.

She pursed her lips slightly at his use of her title before taking a final slow bite of her stew and setting the bowl in a nearby basin. “Cassandra,” she said with a grin as she continued her circular trek around the group, “how goes the reading?”

Cassandra’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed a bit. Halise was referring to the smutty literature written by none other than Varric Tethras, “Swords and Shields.” “Intriguing,” she replied with a smirk. “Ever more… _intriguing_ as it progresses.”

Halise smirked back before turning her attention to the Knight-Captains sitting around the fire. “Knight-Captain Aldridge, Knight-Captain Dolan,” she nodded to them, “I’m pleased to see you both well. How have you settled into your positions?”

Aldridge, a very young man with pale skin but dark eyes and hair, spoke up first. “Well, Your Grace,” he said with a salute. _Your Grace may be worse than Inquisitor._ “Under Commander Cullen’s instruction, I’ve grown confident enough to lead my battalion to victory under the Inquisition’s banner.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Confidence. That’s good. I can work with confidence. And you, Knight-Captain Dolan?”

Dolan was a larger man than Aldridge, with a deeply tanned complexion and dark hair contrasted sharply by striking blue eyes. He bore a small scar over his left cheekbone. A heartbreaker, undoubtedly. “I’ve been at the front lines with Commander Cullen since the day you walked out of the Fade, Inquisitor. I helped bring you to safety when you were unconscious at the temple and have been fighting for you since that day. I have more than a few marks to show for it, too,” he chuckled, holding one hand to his chest and pointing to his cheek with the other. He had a lovely smile and laugh. “My only hope is that my advancement within your forces under Commander Cullen’s tutelage proves worthy of the good name you have given the Inquisition, and helps you win your battles. Whatever they may be.”

Halise realized when he finished speaking that she had stopped walking her slow circle around the group. So this was the man that had hauled her body out of the snow and into the last room standing at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. A good man to his core, whose kindness and skill had been fostered by Cullen for the better part of a year. A man who had fought and survived over and over again in service to the Inquisition. To her. The thought made her chest swell with emotion—pride, joy, and gratitude chief among them.

She stepped around to where Dolan sat, and he leapt up, turned around, and saluted her. She wanted to hug him, but knowing what impression that would give to those watching, she took a knee before him instead. She bowed her head and saluted, audibly thumping her tightly closed fist against her chest. A hush fell over everyone in the immediate area.

“Inquisitor,” he said haltingly, obviously balking at her salute.

She stood, rising to plant herself firmly in front of him, arms at her sides. “Dolan,” she began, voice as strong as she could muster with the amount of emotion rolling through her, “first, thank you for saving me after the Conclave. I know what it must have taken not to kill me on sight that day, and I cannot adequately express my gratitude. Second, I want to applaud you for your commitment to the Inquisition. You have protected the people of Thedas, and me, more than once. Truly, I owe you my life. As I do so many people here.”

She turned, moving to address the crowd gathering around them. She raised her voice, dredging up every bit of strength she could summon to project the power and grace people seemed to think her capable of. “I am proud of each and every person here today, and of those who could not be here. Every single person who has fought, bled, sacrificed, wept, or died for this cause has my deepest gratitude and my utmost respect. You have all put your lives in my hands and the hands of my remarkably skilled and brilliant advisors, and we—along with all of Thedas—owe you our lives. Without all of you, Corypheus would have taken over this land long ago, and we would all be lost. But I know that with the men and women of the Inquisition—the most determined, passionate, and powerful men and women I have ever had the pleasure of knowing—we will win this fight, and any fight to come, no matter the enemy! It is because of all of _you_ that we will succeed! It is because of all of _you_ that we will be victorious!” she roared, the energy of those around her fueling the fire deep within her.

A cacophony of cheers rose up around her. She raised her right fist into the air before bending her knee once more, pressing her fist to her chest in a salute. To everybody who stood before her. To everybody who had died to get them there. To everybody.

The riotous clatter of armor came as a bit of a surprise to her. Amid the din of clanging metal and shifting leather, Halise raised her teary eyes. Not only those within her immediate vicinity, but every person in the camp, knelt around her, fists pressed firmly to their chests, eyes downcast. She exhaled and inhaled sharply through her nose, her lower lip quivering with her struggle not to weep. She spun her head to look at Cullen, who knelt behind her. As if he could feel her eyes on him, he looked up at her and beamed. A tear slipped freely down his cheek before he swept it up with the hand not pressed to his chest. He nodded to her, spurring her to take a deep breath and stand.

Her body shook with the ardor and passion surging through her. “Now rise!” she shouted. Slowly the mass began to stand. “Rise up! Because tomorrow we fight! Tomorrow we win!!!”

The thunder of cheers and battle cries came in an instant, overwhelming Halise with the sheer force of the uproar. She felt a hand on her back, whirling her head to see Cullen rounding her. He slid his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, wrapping his strong fingers around her wrist. A smirk passed quickly over his lips before he thrust her arm into the air and bellowed out toward the horde. His booming voice begat another rolling wave of charged roars from the soldiers, and a loud irrepressible laugh from Halise.

They would win. She believed it then. They would win.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter, but we'll be in the Arbor Wilds/Temple of Mythal for the next couple of chapters. I hope people are still enjoying this story alongside me. Admittedly, my overall motivation has been waning a bit for the past week, and I'm just kind of tired. I'm really hopeful that my writing hasn't suffered because of it. I appreciate every comment and kudo, clutching them to my little heart like writer fuel. So thanks to everyone who has commented, left kudos, bookmarked, and subscribed to me and my story. You're all keeping me going. In a way, Halise's speech was just as much for you as it was for the soldiers of the Inquisition. So I salute you, fair reader, for giving me your time and attention. It is because of you I keep writing (as fast as I have been, haha).
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	37. Chapter 37

“Now!” Cullen roared, thrusting his sword forward toward the Red Templar encampment nestled in a clearing located directly in Halise’s intended path. The cadre of archers standing on either side of him on the ridge above the encampment promptly loosed a volley of arrows directly into most of the Red Templars below. A group of soldiers immediately ran forward alongside Cullen to dispatch the remaining enemies, with Cullen taking special care to block blood splatter from himself and his men, given his experience at Dumat.

The landscape was raucous with the din of battle. The terrain was rugged and covered with wild, overgrown greenery. The verdant tree line was speckled with silvery wreaths of arbor blessing and glowing jagged shards of red lyrium. The lyrium was dispersed enough that Cullen avoided the same level of aggravation of his withdrawal symptoms as he’d suffered at the shrine, but a headache still needled heavily at the back of his eyes.

He and his soldiers forged ahead, finally reaching the first bend in the river. Based on the very limited intelligence Leliana’s scouts had been able to gather before the bulk of the forces arrived, this was a critical hold point. If the Inquisition was unable to take the area and fully occupy it, the Red Templars could flank them downriver or retake control of the entire area.

Choosing brute, overwhelming force over stealth tactics given the openness of the space, Cullen and his men rushed in en masse. The thunder of boots and war cries ended abruptly when they ran into the shallow water. Shields crashed against the stony growths on the bodies of the Red Templar soldiers.

Cullen slashed at a deformed knight with red lyrium crystals sprouting from the side of his face. Cullen’s sword cut past the knight’s bent and weakened armor and deep into his side with a sickening sound. Rather than falling, however, the knight continued to advance on Cullen, forcing him to block blow after blow before landing one of his own into the knight’s throat. Burning blood gushed from the wound, and Cullen drew up his shield once more to obstruct the flow of the tainted liquid.

In the same moment, a Red Templar assassin appeared in a cloud of smoke to Cullen’s left. Malignant blades of ground and shaped red lyrium issuing forth from the flesh of the assassin’s arm sliced toward Cullen’s face. With a dexterous upward swing of his shield, he knocked the bladed arm away, setting the assassin off balance and leaving his chest bare for Cullen’s next strike. Before he could lunge forward with the killing blow, a second shadow burst into being almost directly under his raised arm. The second assassin stabbed upward as Cullen continued the extension of his sword arm into the first, puncturing the beast’s heart and causing an inhuman screech from the dying creature. The second assassin’s lyrium blade glanced off of Cullen’s pauldron with a clinking scrape, and before the shadow could recover, Cullen used the momentum from pulling his sword out of the first to hack away a massive chunk of the man’s arm. Shards of red lyrium chipped off in every direction. He took the opportunity and the impetus with which his arm swung up to thrust his silvery-blue blade into the crook of the assassin’s neck with a shout, jamming downward into the thing’s chest to the hilt.

When the both were defeated, he moved to withdraw his sword only to find it stuck. Lodged in the lyrium coating the corpse’s neck and shoulder. He tugged at it a second time, but it was firmly planted. As he pulled the third time, a Red Templar guard careened toward him with a startling howl, giving him only enough time to pivot and throw his shield up in front of himself before being met with a severe blow. The guard’s massive shield knocked Cullen back several feet into the puddled water with a splash and a grunt. He raised his shield to block a downward strike from the guard, grimacing in preparation for the hit that could cut through his shield, and possibly his arm.

Nothing happened. A loud gurgle came from the other side of Cullen’s shield, and he moved it tentatively but quickly to see what happened. The guard still stood, but blood pulsed out of his neck. The blood-stained tip and first six inches of an arrow jutted out of the guard’s windpipe, and he dropped his sword, grasping at the thin wooden death dealer before crumpling into the water. Cullen looked past where the guard once stood. Halise was running toward him, her smile wide and hair wild. So reminiscent of the first time he had ever seen her in battle at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

“Shame!” she shouted as she approached him. “I was really hoping I saved your ass…” She peered around him at his backside. “But it looks like I was too late!”

Cullen didn’t need to look to feel the mud smeared all over his breaches and coat. “The tales of your victory here will surely tell of how you allowed your dashing Commander’s backside to be muddied and ravaged by the enemy,” he smirked, finally able to yank his sword free of the crumpled corpse of the Red Templar assassin and attaching his shield to his back.

Halise laughed before leaning back to dodge an arrow that whizzed between their faces, fired by an archer perched on the nearby remains of a time worn and crumbled stone bridge. Her expression instantly serious, she deftly turned and sidestepped as she drew and held her arrow, carefully taking aim at the Red Templar. Cullen watched her shoulders fall slowly as she loosed the arrow. He spun his head to see the arrow strike the archer directly in the eye, and watch him topple off the edge of the decrepit bridge into the shallow water.

She turned to him again, smile already spreading back over her lips. “I really don’t think you want the history books talking about your ‘ravaged backside.’” Her left eyebrow quirked up at him, compacting the delicate curve of the dark green vallaslin on her forehead. Her viridescent eyes sparkled in a way he had only ever seen in battle and in bed. Her chest rose and fell with the heavy breaths of her exertion drawn through her parted, grinning lips.

“Perhaps not,” he conceded with a soft chuckle.

Morrigan’s shadowed figure passed behind Halise, firing long lightning bolts at nearing enemies. “Inquisitor,” she said sternly, “do not tarry here. We must reach the temple!” She continued on with a sneer.

Halise’s face twisted, looking like a teenager whose mother just told her she was dressed inappropriately as she walked out the door. She grimaced in disgust, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Alright, so if you don’t want them talking about your ravaged backside,” she began, deliberately ignoring Morrigan, “will you hoist me up on that broken bridge so I can start _actually_ saving asses? Then all they’ll talk about is how heroic and amazing I was.” She tilted her head away from him, pretending to look off into the distance with a defiant grin, as if posing for a portrait.

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his chest in spite of the multitude of dangers surrounding them. Halise threw her head in the direction of the bridge before running toward it. Cullen followed dutifully, crouching and resting his hands on his thigh in a cup shape upon reaching the ancient stone structure. She scraped the bottom of her boot off on the side of the bridge before stepping into his palms, considerate woman that she was. He couldn’t help but notice how airily she moved as he lifted her. Her foot flexed in his hand before she used the momentum to leap up, grabbing onto the broken ledge to pull herself the rest of the way up while groaning out, “Thank you,” with the strain of her muscles.

He withdrew his shield from his back, unsheathing his sword once more to prepare for the inevitable swath of enemies headed their way. Halise’s allies were spread far afield in the open space, but he stayed near her as best he could while they established their hold on the area.

Under the bridge, he couldn’t really see her, but he could hear her. “Shit. There’s a behemoth rounding the bend!” she shouted down to him. Shit indeed.

Given the effects of his last encounter with one of the massive monsters, Cullen was not looking forward to this fight. By the time the behemoth reached his eye line, three or four arrows poked out from its hardened exterior. Several Inquisition soldiers slashed at it as it barreled past them toward Halise, its singular purpose apparently to destroy her, specifically. Cullen could hear the plucking sounds from her bow as she released arrow after arrow into the hulking mass of red lyrium.

Cullen ran at the behemoth, shield blocking his face and torso from the shards of red lyrium raining down from each new hole Halise managed to make in the brute. He rounded behind its legs, taking his time before plunging his sword into the back of its knee at a point where the stone had been worn down by the natural movement of the joint. The creature let out a twisted growl, spinning its oversized club-like fist down to strike Cullen. He managed to draw up his shield before being hit, and though the fist left a pattern of crystal-shaped dents in the metal, he was left unharmed.

He heard Halise bellow, drawing his eyes up just in time to see the flash of her mossy green armor and fiery locks leap from the bridge onto the broad shoulders of the behemoth. He watched her pull a dagger from low on her back that he hadn’t realized she’d started carrying, and coat it with something while the monster bucked and thrashed under her. Gritting her teeth, she jammed the dagger into the back of the behemoth’s neck.

She held fast onto the hilt of the dagger, struggling to maintain her foothold while shouting, “The other knee!”

Cullen hadn’t wanted to attack while she was on top of it, but on her order, he drove his blade into the back of the beast’s other knee. Its thrashing movements faltered as Cullen withdrew his sword, causing a volume of blood to pour out, thankfully not in the direction of his face. Halise jumped, hands still firmly planted on the hilt of the dagger, and allowed herself to fall against the behemoth’s back. The force caused by the weight of her body yanked down on the dagger, both dragging it down to open the spine of the beast and dragging the beast down with it. Soon, it toppled. Halise’s feet landed on the ground surprisingly lightly, but she wasted no time jumping onto the behemoth’s chest.

“Get back!” she yelled at Cullen.

He leapt backward several paces just as she plowed the newly freed dagger into the skull of the monster. She jerked hard on the knife, causing a final cry and spasm from the behemoth before she ripped the blade out. Blood sprayed in every direction but hers, and Cullen was grateful she’d warned him before finishing off the creature.

Piqued by the rush of battle and the sight of Halise’s strong, lithe body as she panted and looked down on the body of the behemoth, Cullen charged toward her. Their bodies slammed against each other as he enveloped her waist in his arms, lifting her off the ground and pressing a rough kiss against her lips. A surprised yelp escaped her throat when her toes left the little pool of water and blood she’d been standing in, but she wreathed her arms around his neck for the duration of the brief yet passionate kiss.

He set her down, releasing her quickly. Her eyes opened wide, an incredulous grin spreading over her mouth. “What was _that_ for?” she laughed.

“You’re magnificent,” he replied. He absolutely meant it.

She gasped out another chuckle, smacking his breastplate. “That’s not an answer!”

Suddenly remembering they were in the middle of a battle, Cullen looked around them. Red Templar corpses riddled the area, and several Inquisition soldiers were wounded, but none seemed to have been killed. There were no more battle sounds in the immediate vicinity. Solas, Dorian, Sera, Blackwall, Iron Bull, and Morrigan all ran toward them. Cole had requested in his usual otherworldly way to stay behind at the camp to help the healers. Vivienne was in another part of the wilds commanding a group of Orlesian mages and chevaliers. Cassandra led the group of soldiers holding the expanse between where Cullen now stood and the camps, and Varric had stayed behind with her. For two people who claimed to hate each other, they seemed to get along quite well.

“As exhilarating as all of this has proven to be,” Dorian said blithely with a little wave at their surroundings, “I believe it’s time to make our way to the temple. You know, stopping Corypheus and all that.”

“Yes. We must go before he reaches the eluvian,” Morrigan added.

“Maker, enough with the eluvy-whatever! If I have to keep listening to this elfy shite I’ll give the next person who says it my two fingers!” Sera jabbed her index and middle fingers upward toward Morrigan, sticking out her tongue rudely.

“Sera, I will never understand why you reject your heritage so completely.” Solas shot a disappointed look her way.

 _Maker’s breath,_ Cullen thought, _they bicker like siblings—like child siblings._ The whole exchange exacerbated the pulsing headache behind his eyes. Halise shook her head, holding her hand out to stop everyone. “Okay, everyone shut up.” She moved her hand to her forehead, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “We do have to go if we want to stop Corypheus. Sera? We’re going into an Elvhen temple, so things are about to get very elfy. No arrows in people we like, alright?”

Sera crossed her arms petulantly. “Gaw, fine! But Droopy Ears over there better stop gushing at me. You didn’t say anything about punching.”

Halise sighed, exasperated. She’d never had so many of her friends together in the field at once, and it seemed to be proving somewhat overwhelming. They all had strong personalities, and some had fundamentally differing beliefs. “Fine, whatever. Let’s go.”

She turned to go, stopping short after her first step to turn back to Cullen as everyone else walked past them. The smile he gave her bore signs of the pity he felt for her at having to herd around her compatriots. She returned a similar grin. “I need you to stay within eyeshot of the entrance to the temple,” she said, putting her hand on the back of his bicep, the only part of his arm not covered by armor. “If we have to make a quick exit, or if anyone or anything comes running out, I need someone capable to handle it.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “I’m glad you think I’m capable,” he quipped.

Halise looked up at him with a little smirk. “Don’t let it go to your head, Commander,” she said as she began to walk away.

“I love you,” he said before she got out of earshot. “Please take care.”

“I love you, too,” she replied with a little wave, her back already turned. “And I will.”

 _Maker watch over her,_ Cullen thought. This could be the moment they defeated Corypheus, and he trusted her to make it through, especially after watching her cut down the behemoth with such aplomb. But something nagged at him. He couldn’t place it—just a nameless sort of dread. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt something like it, but it was different this time. He did his best to push it aside, choosing instead to focus on the task of fully securing the area. Another silent prayer passed through his mind as he gathered up his men to direct their next moves. _Maker, keep her safe. Keep her alive._

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ech...also kinda short, but writing combat is exhausting! I can only imagine what actually doing it it like!
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	38. Chapter 38

“Now,” Halise panted, leaning against the stone wall just inside the door of the temple, “can someone tell me what the _fuck_ just happened?!”

“Coryphy-shit was dead!” Sera yelled. “Bang! All in pieces. Then he wasn’t! Came crawling out of some dead guy! All gooey and…shit!” She clenched her fists before slamming them into the now magically sealed door.

Iron Bull scoffed. “Just when I was beginning to think that things actually died when you killed them.”

Even Morrigan looked stunned, not just over Corypheus’s seeming immortality, but that he said his reason for being at the Temple of Mythal wasn’t the eluvian, but something called the Well of Sorrows. “It would seem that Corypheus’s life force can take over the body of any blighted creature, darkspawn, or Grey Warden…And we will not be able to kill him until we can determine how to stop that.”

“For once I’m grateful I’m not actually a Warden,” Blackwall added. He and Halise had decided together that it was better for everyone if they just kept calling him that. Anyone who hadn’t heard about Thom Rainier didn’t need to. Not yet. Not while Corypheus was still alive—and apparently impossible to kill.

Halise spun her head around behind her and shot a glare at the witch. “No shit, huh? And what about this ‘Well of Sorrows’ thing? I thought you said he was here for an eluvian?”

“I…am uncertain of what he referred to,” she admitted haltingly, glancing away from Halise’s hard gaze. “I suspected what he was looking for. I did not know.”

“Ah!” Halise pushed herself off of the wall, throwing her open hands into the air. “Finally you admit you don’t know _something_ ,” she growled through gritted teeth.

“Yes! I was wrong! Does that please you?”

“A little bit, yes,” Halise’s voice softened with some twisted vindictive amusement she didn’t realize she was capable of.

“Whatever the Well of Sorrows might be, Corypheus seeks it and thus you must keep it from his grasp.” Morrigan gestured through the doorway into the temple.

“Fine,” Halise scoffed. “Let’s find this well before Samson does.” The greasy asshole had run across the bridge into the temple ahead of them, taking advantage of the shockwaves of his master’s pretend death.

As they entered the widened vestibule of the temple, overgrown by the hearty wildlife of the Arbor Wilds, another question popped into her mind. “Solas, who were those elves defending the temple? They looked…different.”

He spoke softly from behind her, as was his way much of the time. “I am not certain. Perhaps they are fanatics, or guardians intended to protect the temple.”

“Hmm,” was all Halise could muster in response. That was not entirely helpful information, except that now they had to tread lightly with two potential groups of enemies blocking their path forward.

Halise ran up a small flight of stairs in the center of the room to get through to the other side, stopping cold when she heard a song and saw a golden, then blue light shine up from beneath her. It gleamed from under the gilded tiles surrounding the raised planter at the center. The magic felt warm under her feet.

“It seems the Elvehn magics here are still strong,” Morrigan purred.

Halise looked up from the light to see a large pillar directly in front of her with runic-looking writing etched into the stone. She squinted, waving her hand behind her to call up Solas. “This is Elvhen,” she said as she ran her fingers over the rough carved letters.

“Yes,” Solas replied, “but much of it has been worn away over time.” His eyes wandered over the stone, fascinated. Halise watched his face, suddenly very glad he was there.

“Place of sorrows,” he murmured. “Knowledge…respectful or pure…The rest is lost to history.” He seemed sadder than she was about that. “But it would appear this is the place to begin the rituals for entry. Walk the path of the ancients as it were. But do not step where you have already trod. It would have been demanded that your steps be sure before being allowed entry.”

“No, no, no,” Sera whimpered behind them. “This is bad. Rituals are bad! You can’t want this.”

Halise turned around and walked back over to her friend, putting her hands on Sera’s shoulders. “If following what we’re supposed to do in here makes it easier for all of us to not die, shouldn’t I do it?” she asked.

“Plus,” Dorian interrupted, “if she does these rituals, we get to watch her walking around in circles staring at the ground like a knob.”

Sera chortled at Dorian’s use of such a Ferelden term. “Right, fine,” she huffed, shrugging and slapping her thighs with her palms. “But don’t you go getting too elfy cause of these stupid glowing floors. Remember, punching.” She held up her right fist, eliciting a little chuckle from Halise.

“Alright, not too elfy.” Halise stepped back over to the raised walkway, circling outside of it first to see what path she should take. Once she got on the path, just as Dorian had joked, she walked carefully along the gilded tiles, staring down at them to ensure she did not stride astray.

When she completed the walk, a loud hum came from the ground with a flash. Then the tiles dimmed. Nothing else happened. “Perhaps this is to show us what we are meant to do to gain entry to the temple proper,” Solas speculated.

“Maybe,” Halise replied pensively. She hoped he was right.

The group proceeded ahead to a large staircase. The steps and landings were littered with the mutilated bodies of Red Templars alongside those of the Elvhen guardians. Blood stained the thousand-year old stone and the plush greenery, marring the peaceful façade of the temple. Halise felt sick having to step over their corpses to make it up the stairs, swallowing thickly after almost slipping in a pool of blood, nearly sending her clamoring down the stairs.

A lone statute to the left of the door to the next room caught her eye. She followed her eye line, going out of her way to approach the massive stone sculpture of a wolf neatly perched on a pedestal. “Fen’Harel?” she breathed. “What’s a statue of Fen’Harel doing in a temple meant to honor Mythal?”

“Perhaps it is meant for protection? To warn away evil? But I thought the ancient elves above such quaint superstitions,” Morrigan said. Halise rolled her eyes silently before turning back around to face them.

“For all your ‘knowledge,’ Lady Morrigan, you cannot resist giving legend the weight of history,” Solas interjected. “The wise do not mistake one for the other.”

“Pray tell, what meaning does our Elvhen ‘expert’ sense lurking behind this?” Morrigan spat. Halise pressed her lips together tightly to suppress the smile forming at the woman’s irritation.

“None we can discern by staring at it,” Solas retorted harshly.

“Okay, enough,” Halise finally intervened. “We can all sit down for a theological discussion after we’ve stopped Samson.”

She strode between them, headed for the door. The moment they entered, an explosion thundered through the room, sending smoke and rock flying into the air. Halise instinctively ran toward the sound, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Samson and several Red Templars on the balcony above them. He turned to face her and sneered before shouting, “Hold them off!” to every Red Templar on the ground level with her. Before she could say anything, he leapt into the air and disappeared, presumably down whatever hole he’d just blown through the floor.

Archers, knights, and other deformed monstrosities materialized at the sides of the room. Halise and her party immediately set to work dispatching them. Some went down easily enough, while others took more effort. One of the hulking beasts, likely seconds from turning into a behemoth, somehow managed to shoot several spears of red lyrium out of his body toward Halise, missing her by mere inches each time before she backflipped away. Loosing several poisoned arrows into the thing, she finally managed to kill it. Magic and arrows and chains and mauls whirred through the air around her chaotically. The number of people she’d brought with her was overwhelming, not just to the enemy, but to her. Fortunately, despite the bickering, they all fought well alongside one another, making quick work of an otherwise too large group of Red Templars.

They ran up to the balcony, instantly seeing the large hole in the ground. “We can still catch them!” Halise shouted before running to jump down.

“Hold a moment!” Morrigan ran between Halise and the pit, holding her hands out to stop Halise’s momentum.

“What?! First you want me to catch them. Now you want me to stop. What?!” Halise fought the urge to push the woman down first.

“While they rush ahead, this leads to our destination.” Morrigan pointed to a large door nearby. “We should walk the petitioner’s path as before! Performing these rituals may mean the difference between reaching the well before Samson and not at all!”

Halise closed her eyes, panting at the energy it took to contain her rage. “People are dying outside. My men are dying! You’d better be certain about this or you’ll answer for it the first chance I get.” She meant it. Halise learned early on from her mother not to make idle threats.

“Had they the option, they would have proceeded. That must lead to their goal.”

“You’re very insistent about this. Are you sure you don’t just want the well for yourself? Because I’m starting to think that’s more important to you than stopping Corypheus.”

Morrigan got close to Halise—perilously close for all the anger she felt. Her men were in danger outside. Cullen was in danger outside. “There is…a danger to the natural order,” Morrigan murmured into Halise’s ear. Halise looked sideways at the witch, willing her to continue.

“Legends walked Thedas once. Things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser.”

“Get to the point,” Halise hissed.

“Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the well. _I_ would have it restored.” Morrigan sounded almost proud.

“You don’t know anything about it! How could you possibly know it should be restored!”

“I only know that its ancient power must not be destroyed or misused,” she retorted. “Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand. Elves, dragons, magic—the list is endless. We must stem the tide, or be left with nothing but the mundane. This I know to be true.”

Halise sighed, remaining silent for Morrigan to finish. “I also read the pillar in the first chamber. It said more than what Solas let on.”

Halise gave Morrigan a look of warning. She had known Solas for much longer, and though something about him made her uneasy, she didn’t like the implications Morrigan was making. “Why wouldn’t he tell me everything?”

“That, I do not know. But the pillar said that a great boon is given to those who use the Well of Sorrows, but at a terrible price.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean exactly?”

“Like most Elvhen writing it was insufferably vague. The term I deciphered was ‘halam’shivanas.’ ‘The sweet sacrifice of duty.’ It implies the loss of something personal for duty’s sake.”

“I know what halam’shivanas means. Stop treating me like I’m not Elvhen for a moment. Please.” It really was terribly obnoxious. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

“My apologies. I did not want to undermine Solas publically, and I hoped to find more information. If I intended to cheat you, I would’ve feigned ignorance entirely. My priority is your cause, but if the opportunity arises to save this well, I am willing to pay the cost.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“That is what we must discover. The rituals may point the way.” She pointed to the door.

Halise ran her fingers over her eyebrow and sighed. “Fenedhis.” She turned to the group, deflated. “Alright, we’re doing the rituals.”

“Elfy shit!” Sera yelled. Halise simply approached her and offered her shoulder. Sera reeled back and socked her right in the arm.

Halise hissed and grimaced. “Ow! You punched me really hard, ass!” She chuckled as she rubbed the sore spot. The tension in the air seemed to lift like fog under the heat of the afternoon sun.

“To be fair, you didn’t say she couldn’t,” Blackwall said with a laugh.

“’S’right beardy,” Sera barked with a smirk. “And don’t you go saying anything stupid about honor or whatever. I’ve got two fists and I know where you sleep!”

Everyone but Morrigan and Solas laughed.

Halise finished the rituals relatively quickly, though they advanced in their complexity the further along she moved. When they were done, the party approached the door. Magic dispelled, they entered without resistance. Almost immediately, they were confronted by a group of the guardians. Their apparent leader, who identified himself as “Abelas”—not by coincidence if Halise had learned anything in their brief time in the temple—noted their reverence for and adherence to the Elvhen rituals. Once she managed to convince him that Samson and the Red Templars were everyone’s enemy, Abelas explained the “sentinels’” presence.

They were ancient elves tasked with protecting the temple and the well, and woke from centuries long slumbers only to defend against intruders. Then, upon Halise’s questions guided only by the misinformation she and decades of elves had been fed, Abelas told the real story of the fall of the Elvhen. Neither Tevinter nor any other shemlen destroyed Arlathan or the Elvhen empire, but a civil war. Halise’s mind reeled and raced at the revelation. She heard Dorian say something about taking the information back to Tevinter to knock them down a peg, but she was so taken aback at having been lied to—by having been taught and preached at and persecuted about something that was all a fabrication—she felt dizzy and faint. Morrigan continued to pepper Abelas with questions about the well, irking Halise back to her senses just in time to hear him offer an alliance.

Allies were necessary against Mythal-knew how many Red Templars and the as yet still armored and overpowered Samson, so Halise agreed, further offering to help protect the well. Abelas refused her offer, instead marching off to destroy the well himself to prevent it from being sullied or usurped. Morrigan panicked, surprising Halise by transforming into a crow and flying after the sentinel against Halise’s attempted dissuasion.

Halise immediately threw her hands up as a gesture of semi-surrender, meant to show that she did not mean the other sentinels any harm, nor did she endorse Morrigan’s flight. They did not seem to associate Halise with Morrigan’s actions, however, instead offering a somewhat elderly guide to lead them through the back way, around the fighting.

Halise would not just let these ancient sentinels die. The entire way to the well, she burst through door after door to help them defeat small groups of Red Templars. She received no gratitude for her actions, nor did she feel she deserved any. These men were simply fulfilling their duties—a job they would not have had to do if Halise had only managed to defeat Corypheus sooner. Something about seeing the deaths of such venerable and historic men twisted and balled within her stomach. Each of them may have lived for another thousand years if not for her inability to kill a monster that she felt should have been able to kill months ago. But no. He could not be killed. Not with his power. Somehow that made it worse.

They entered the chamber of the Well of Sorrows just in time to watch several Red Templars cut down five more sentinels. Halise’s gut churned at the sound of their screams and bones being crushed. She had to get close enough to use Dagna’s rune, so she and the others remained silent in their approach. She listened as Samson praised his men.

“You tough bastards,” he said. “A day’s march, hours of fighting, and still fierce as dragons. The Chantry never knew what it was throwing away.”

As much as she wanted to hate Samson—to loathe every fiber of him for what he did to his men—no one acted as if they’d been betrayed or tricked. He spoke to them with respect and admiration. He fought among them, not unlike Halise or Cullen. And she knew from Maddox’s actions that his men respected him. It was hard to cast aspersions on his leadership capabilities. Still, he’d facilitated the mutilation of thousands of men and women, allowing a monster to bend them to his will. That alone was enough.

“Samson, Ser—watch out!” one of the Red Tempalrs shouted as Halise and her party approached.

Shit. That may be as close as she was going to get.

“Inquisitor,” Samson spat. “You and those other elf-things don’t know when to stop! You’ve hunted me half across Thedas. I should have guessed you’d follow us into this hole.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked genuinely. “You and your master have used these men up to wreak havoc and rain destruction down on the world. But along the way I realized your men are fiercely loyal to you. Like Maddox, who took a whole bottle of blightcap essence so he wouldn’t have to tell us where you’d gone. We gave him a proper funeral, in case you cared.” The whole time she’d been speaking she was inching her way closer, not wanting to chance that the rune wouldn’t work.

Samson’s expression and voice softened at her mention of Maddox. “I told him not to…” He shook his head a bit, sounding much like whatever version of himself he’d given to Corypheus when he spoke up again. “He died as one of us, one of the faithful.”

Halise felt a sneer cross her face. “Fuck your faith,” she scoffed. “Honestly, if that is what it does—if it makes a man tranquil and lets him die for the sake of some lyrium addict who turned to worse corruption because he couldn’t manage to be strong enough to quit on his own—fuck your stupid fucking faith. And fuck you. I don’t give a shit what Corypheus wants you to do with the Well of Sorrows, because I don’t want to hear another word out of your stupid, hypocritical mouth!”

She pulled out the rune, cold and hot in different places against her fingertips, and held it out in front of her.

“So, Inqis—” Samson’s words were violently interrupted when the rune shuddered to life, forcing the armor to burst off of Samson’s body with a pop and a crumble.

“I said, not another word.”

With that, Samson and the Red Templars lashed out at them. Halise did not want to kill Samson, despite the myriad reasons she had for doing so. Instead she focused her attention on his minions, working with her friends to strike critical blows against the beasts until all that was left was Samson. He howled, swinging his massive sword at Bull and Blackwall as they traded shots at his front and his back. Halise dropped to one knee, taking careful aim to strike Samson in the lower back. If she hit him too high, she would kill or paralyze him, but too low and he wouldn’t go down. She sucked in a slow breath. Exhaling even more slowly, she loosed her arrow.

Just as her fingers released the bowstring, and she heard the _thunk_ with which she’d become so familiar throughout her life, white hot pain shot between her ribs on her left side, knocking her back with a grunt. When she looked down, she let out a blood curdling scream at the pain coupled with the sight of a massive spear of red lyrium jutting out from under her breast, a space unprotected by most of her armor. All at once, she couldn’t breathe. She struggled to suck down air, only hearing faint sounds coming from her companions as she toppled into the grassy dirt, gripping the toxic shard in her hand. A cough tore out of her, and she could taste and feel the molten blood bubbling out of her mouth. She was dying. She hadn’t made sure the area was clear and now she was going to die. Her head lolled to the side, and she could just see the sunlit Well of Sorrows. Her vision blurred and darkened. In her last moment of consciousness, she was sorry she would be hurting Cullen. She was sorry she’d been so stupid and reckl—

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...shit.
> 
> I was a little slow to update this over the past few days, mostly because I was participating in Cullavellan Week on tumblr. I wrote a bunch of secondary material for this story that you can actually check out on AO3 if you click my username. They include ["Speed"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7949953), ["Mir Da'len Somniar"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7961749), and ["Var Bellanaris"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7986100), as well as the prologue to a new modern AU fic that I plan to start updating regularly once TLBT is done, called ["Trial by Fire"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7992643)! Please check them out if you like, and leave some feedback so I know whether you're feeling this and the other stuff I'm working on. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead. 
> 
> Effects of PTSD are included and referenced below.

“Fuck!” Cullen hissed when he saw the second explosion coming from the temple. The first had only been audible, with no visible change in the landscape. No smoke, no fire, no shudder, and no way into the temple. The bridge was blocked by some ancient magical barrier that neither Cullen nor his men dared attempt to enter given the destruction they saw around it when they approached. Corypheus had simply used his archdemon to fly over it.

But he felt the second explosion when he heard it. The earth rumbled beneath his feet as the smoke and pieces of stone and something resembling glass flew into the air near what he suspected was the far end of the temple. Simultaneously, the barrier blinked and buzzed before fizzling away unceremoniously.

Corypheus had only managed to break the magic sealing the door and blocking his entry into the temple minutes before the second explosion. Cullen’s stomach dropped and twisted for no apparent reason only moments afterward. Then came the eruption of stone and smoke.

At that, he surged forward with his small team—all trusted and battle-proven men and women. Without any attempts at stealth, but also with no battle cries or fanfare, they crossed the bridge and entered the massive vestibule. He saw nothing in the first chamber to show that Halise had even been through. In the second chamber, bodies lay scattered about the room, but none had been touched by even a single arrow. This battle had either taken place before or after she passed. The third chamber was the first place he saw her, felt her. The smell of a high volume of powerful magic lingered in the air, and both Sera and Halise’s arrows protruded from Red Templar corpses littering the ground floor. Small volumes of smoke emanated from a dying fire on the balcony, which Cullen soon learned was the source of the first explosion.

With the time between the two blasts, Cullen had no doubt that Halise had gone well past this point. Just beyond the massive hole in the floor was an open door. The choice gave Cullen only a moment’s pause. Blowing a hole in the floor was Samson’s way, not Halise’s. She would have taken as much care as she could have. The fact that the door was open made him even more certain that it was the route he needed to take.

He very nearly skidded to a stop when he entered the next room. More than a dozen strange looking elves stood in the shimmering chamber having a hushed but heated discussion. They all turned to look at him and his men the second they’d heard their footfalls on the stone floor. One man stepped forward to address Cullen. He reminded him of Solas.

“The Vir’Abellasan is no more. What have you come for?” the hooded man asked firmly.

Cullen had no idea what the Vir’Abellasan was, but that it was “no more” worried him. “I’ve come for the Inquisitor,” he replied, standing tall to prove he was unafraid. But he was afraid. Not of this elf, but of whatever caused the feeling he’d had in his gut since before the second blast.

“Which is that? The poisoned man or the marked woman?”

Cullen heard bowstrings drawing, impatiently awaiting his answer to bring swift vengeance or relief. “The woman,” he said sturdily. “Halise.”

“I care not for her name or her cause, Shemlen,” the elf replied dismissively. “She continued on to the well. The temple has been spoiled. You may go to her. Follow the path through that door.” He pointed to a silvery open entryway.

Cullen nodded gruffly, figuring that any more demonstration of gratitude would be wasted on the blunt elf. He and his men forged ahead, Cullen noting Halise’s arrows in nearly every room along the way, until they reached a massive room. It was filled with plants and water, and the far end appeared to have been devastated by a massive explosion. They ran down the semicircular staircase to find yet more destruction. Red Templar corpses lay about the space, bearing combinations of injuries that could only be dealt by Halise and her compatriots. Arrows, sword wounds, shattered bones and bruises, frozen limbs, burns caused by both electricity and fire.

A low groan drew Cullen’s eyes to a body lying on its side near the pool of water at the center of the chamber. The only one left alive. He approached from behind, seeing just one of Halise’s arrows jutting out of the man’s back. Then he saw the greasy hair that she hated so much. He rounded the man quickly to verify. Samson.

His face was bruised and bloodied on one side, and his armor had been shattered off of his body as promised, leaving him lying pitifully on the ground at anyone’s mercy. He coughed before looking up at Cullen with the one eye not swollen shut and letting out a husky laugh.

“Of course it’s you,” he scoffed. “You perfect little Chantry-boy with your perfect hair and perfect teeth. You would be the one to come storming in here to take me prisoner after letting someone else handle the dirty work.” He spat blood just shy of Cullen’s boot. Cullen simply stood there, staring down at him, waiting for him to finish his piteous rant.

“Your bitch shot me in the back. Like the fucking coward she’d have to be to pick you for her commander. Good shot, though. Dropped me like a sack of potatoes. Still can’t move my legs, though I suspect that’s temporary given her penchant for redemption.” He weakly clapped his hands together in a mocking prayer.

“What happened to your face, then?” Cullen asked, arms crossed over his breastplate.

A smile crept over Samson’s lips as he summoned another twisted laugh. “What this? This is nothing. The other little elf cunt did this after my last man killed your fucking Inquisitor.”

Cullen’s stomach went cold. His whole body numbed as if he’d swallowed an ice rune. “What?” he thought he heard his voice ask, but couldn’t be certain.

“You heard me. Red lyrium bolt, just missed her perfect tits, thank the Maker. Why else would there be a pool of blood and no body?” Samson drew out the word “pool” to a sickening effect. He grinned widely, exposing his bloodied yellow teeth. “They carried her through the eluvian before blowing it up. Doesn’t matter anyhow. Void already took her.”

Without a word, Cullen walked away, seeking the pool of blood. Praying not to find it. Then he saw it. Not ten yards from Samson’s body. Dark and thick. Nearly two feet in diameter. Footprints of all sizes stamped in the damp grass and dirt around it, some in it. The faint song of red lyrium rising, not from the bloodied shard next to the puddle, but from the blood itself. A trail of it leading to the site of the devastation that had forced him to run into the temple in the first place.

Cullen wanted to kill Samson. He wanted to choke him until he saw the life leave his eyes. He wanted to run him through and twist the blade. He wanted to beat him until his mind turned to pulp inside of his greasy skull. But what Cullen wanted and what he needed were two very different things. He needed to get back to Skyhold. He needed to see Halise. He needed to know that she wasn’t dead, that Samson was the liar he’d always proven himself to be.

He didn’t even look at his men before issuing his orders on his way out of the chamber. “Tie Samson’s hands and feet together tightly, and do not touch that arrow in his back. Take him to Scout Harding at the camp immediately to secure him. Tell Seeker Pentaghast that I’ve returned to Skyhold alone and that she is to lead the march home.”

“Yes, Ser!” he heard one of them shout as he exited the room. He didn’t know which one—didn’t need to know.

*****

It took him less than three days to return to Skyhold. He left his horse in the Arbor Wilds, choosing to take Moosh instead. The tremendous nug was familiar enough with him that he let him on his back. He was the fastest thing the Inquisition had in its possession aside from a raven, and had more stamina than three horses combined. They rode through the nights, stopping only long enough for Moosh to drink, and arrived at Skyhold completely exhausted.

The fortress was eerily quiet as Cullen hopped off of Moosh’s back, patting him on the neck and handing off the reins to one of Dennett’s stable hands just inside the portcullis. None of the ordinary sounds could be heard. There were no swords clashing in the sparring ring, no raucous laughter emanating from the Herald’s Rest, no mages chanting or casting, no armor being forged, no horses whinnying from the stables.

Denying himself a moment’s respite, he ran up the stairs into the main hall, strangely devoid in its own right. The normal riot of whispers was absent, as were the nobles from which it came. Cullen became all too aware of the heavy sound of his footsteps and the rattle of each tiny piece of his armor knocking against the next as he walked. He didn’t hear anything else until he was halfway toward the door to Halise’s quarters in the hall.

The faint din of screams pealed from behind the door into the grand room, echoing around the empty space against the stone, forcing Cullen to hear the same scream ten times over. He broke into a run, slamming her door open so forcefully it nearly ripped off its hinges. He charged up the stairs, but was stopped cold about half way up. Leliana careened down to intercept him faster than he’d seen her move since when they’d first met in Ferelden all those years ago. Her cheeks bore the telltale streaks of tears, and her nose was red.

Cullen heard panting and whimpering coming from above him, but it sounded strange. He moved to run around Leliana and she sidestepped to block him. “Is it her? Let me pass,” he barked, attempting once more to get around only to have her arm shoot out in front of him.

“Cullen, stop,” she snapped. At her uncharacteristic use of his name, he did. “You have to know something before you go up there.”

“So stop drawing this out and tell me!”

“First, she is alive. She’s up in bed right now. She still has some very severe broken bones—her ribs mostly—and a punctured lung. She keeps reinjuring herself before we can heal her properly, and that...is because she has red lyrium poisoning,” she confessed softly, placing a hand on Cullen’s shoulder through his lion’s mane collar.

“Red lyr—what? She has what?” His mind spun and spun, turning in on itself as if to protect him from such earth shattering news.

“Red lyrium poisoning, Cullen,” Leliana said matter-of-factly. “The shard that broke her ribs and pierced her lung was stuck deep inside of her long enough to poison her blood. Solas tried healing magic, which has worked just enough to keep her alive so far, but everyone in the Inquisition that knows how to deal with red lyrium poisoning is still in the Arbor Wilds. I’ve sent for Adan to ride ahead with Cole. They should be here within the next few days.”

He should have known. He should have realized it when he heard the sick song coming from the blood pooled in the dirt. “I should have brought him with me,” he murmured. “I should have thought to bring Adan with me. I-I knew she was hurt. I knew we brought all of our best healers with us. I should have brought him.” He felt his chest tighten and his eyes sting. Now was not the time. He had to be strong for her. “Let me see her,” he pleaded.

“One last thing.” She sniffed and swallowed hard. “She is not herself. You understand the effects of red lyrium on the mind, so you know it causes paranoia and violence as well as…some physical changes. Nothing is growing out of her—the exposure was not as bad as that—but you will see differences, and she will say things she would not otherwise. I need you to be prepared for that, Cullen.” Leliana made certain he was looking her in the eye when he agreed.

Fear gripped at every fiber of his being. “Let me see her, Leliana,” he said again. With that, she nodded almost imperceptibly and moved out of his way.

Halise moaned from her bed, and when Cullen crested the top of the stairs, he saw her. It was all he could do not to sob out loud and crumble to his knees to curse the Maker’s name. She lay there, pale and writhing in nothing more than her smallclothes and a white tunic that had been stained a deep crimson just under her left breast. The stain was wet with fresh blood from what were likely newly popped stitches, probably the cause of her screaming. She was almost gaunt with dehydration and blood loss, sickly skin gripping her muscles and bones tightly, as though it threatened to tear open with even the smallest touch. Several of her arteries shone through bright red, one down her neck, one down her left arm toward her mark, and one down her inner thigh. Her ordinarily vibrant hair was dull, matted down with blood and sweat. And her face—Maker her face…A near permanent pained grimace clung to her, pain etched deeply into her features, and tears constantly pouring down her unusually hollow cheeks. The whites of her eyes very nearly glowed red from what he could see when she barely opened them, and her lips were pale and cracked. The sound of her groans was tinged with the telltale echo of red lyrium, as if someone else with the same voice sat in her chest mimicking her every utterance.

The song emanated from within her. That terrible siren song, begging Cullen to taste—to succumb. His headache roared back into existence, his body aching for lyrium down to his marrow. He could feel the small beads of sweat forming on his brow. How dare his depraved addiction resurface in this moment, piquing his desire while he watched the love of his life dying before him. Shame mingled with fear to wring his stomach and wrack him with pain and nausea.

Her earthy scent was gone from the room, replaced with that of waste, the faint metallic odor of blood, and the sickening ozone smell of magic. The deep blue blanket she kept on her bed had been balled up and thrown clear across the room, leaving her laying in a pool of her own sweat and ichor.

His mind slipped back into his nightmares, into his past. Every moment of pain and death, every tortured scream flooded back over him in a sickening wave. His breathing sped with his anxiety, and he gripped the bright red pommel of the sword he still wore at his hip. Anything he could do to stop his hands from shaking. Despite his efforts, looking down at her tortured form, Cullen’s thoughts raced over images of the dead and dying that haunted him, dogging his every step. The memories and nightmares had diminished in their time together, but the sight of her tormented body and mind coupled with the thought of losing her to a writhing, agonizing death at the hands of a man with whom he had once shared a room with was almost too much. He’d missed his chance for blind vengeance in the temple, and he knew in his heart that more death was not the answer. Even so, he wanted the man dead.

Cullen felt a boiling tear scald its way down his cheek. “Halise,” he whispered. “My love, I am so sorry.”

Casting his eyes up for a moment, he saw Solas sitting in a chair next to the bed. The mage looked spent, deep dark circles having formed under his eyes. His mouth hung open lazily as his shoulders rose and fell with his heavy breaths. He’d been pouring every ounce of his magic into Halise for days, giving her everything he had. An unfamiliar woman, likely one of the newer healers or apothecaries, stood by Halise’s desk with her back to all but Cullen, sobbing into her hands while hovering over a half-mixed health potion and several purplish vials of what was likely a sleeping draught.

Solas looked up at him, too exhausted even to muster his usual expressionlessness. “I trust Leliana has informed you of Halise’s condition?”

“Yes,” Cullen tried to say, but his voice cracked against the word. “Yes,” he said slightly louder. “What can I do?”

“For now, you can see if Alexandra needs any assistance in mixing potions,” Solas replied with a weak wave in the woman’s direction.

“Alright,” Cullen managed firmly.

He began to sidestep across the room, not wanting to take his eyes off of Halise until absolutely necessary. As if roused by his movement, Halise’s eyes shot open almost violently. Her head whipped back and forth until her gaze landed on him. Something like fear passed over her expression briefly before it seemed to turn to pure, trembling rage.

“You!” she and the lyrium beast within her shouted hoarsely. “You killed her! You fucking killed her!”

She shot up and out of her bed, feet hitting the stone floor with a slap. Using her upward momentum, she threw herself in his direction. She managed to run two meager steps before crying out in agony, clutching at her ribcage and falling to the floor on her hands and knees. Her back arched with a heaving, wheezing coughing fit, hurling viscous blood onto the stones. With one final cough and violent gasp, her body fell slack onto her right side.

Horrified, Cullen started to run to her. Solas made it to her first, crouching next to her. “Stop!” Solas bellowed. “If she wakes and sees you, she’ll only do herself more harm! You must leave! Now!”

Conflict flashed through Cullen’s mind in that moment. He needed to protect her, to keep her safe. But to do that, he couldn’t be with her—couldn’t remain at her side. It was a cruel torment. He understood he needed to leave, so without another sound, he willed his feet one by one from the ground to walk out of Halise’s chambers. He further willed himself down the stairs and out of the door, passing by Leliana’s sorrowful gaze on his way. When the door shut behind him, he could feel himself breaking apart.

He needed to be alone, so he charged through the door to Josephine’s office. She was unusually absent. All the better, because he knew if she had been there she would want to offer tearful comfort, and he couldn’t manage her sorrow alongside his. He flung open the door to the war room so hard it crashed into the wall 180 degrees behind it.

Sera’s head spun to face him, her body still slumped and seated on the inactive part of northwestern Ferelden on the war table. The same spot where he and Halise had—

“Andraste’s tits, Cullen!” she yelled. Everyone was calling him by his first name, even Sera. “You scared me half to—well you know.” Her tone fell with each syllable, sadness becoming evident in her voice.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, holding himself together by a thread no stronger than a strand of hair. “I’ll leave you.” He turned to go, uncertain where.

“I punched her,” Sera mumbled behind him, causing him to pivot back to look at her. She’d dropped her head again, body swaying to and fro with the light fidgeting kicks of her dangling legs.

“What?”

“The last thing I said to her was, ‘Elfy shit!’ Then I punched her in the arm. Hard. I was angry that she wanted to do the stupid rituals, and I was on about it all day. ‘Ooh too elfy,’ and ‘I’ll punch you,’ and that.” She paused. “It was in good fun. Everybody had a laugh. But that’s what they’ll remember. ‘Oh that Sera! Supposed to be such good friends with Her Gracious Ladybits the Inquisitor. Last thing she did was punch her.’”

Cullen walked toward her, closing the wide open war room door behind him. As he came around the side of the war table he said, “I think you’re the only one who calls her that.”

She turned to look at him again, shaggy blonde hair hanging across the bridge of her nose and down from her nearly horizontal head. Up close, her eyes and nose were red. He’d never seen her cry—didn’t really think she was capable of it if he was being honest. But she and Halise shared a special bond she’d likely never had with anyone before. With a hard sniff, she dropped her head again, watching her legs swing back and forth. “What do you call her?” she asked with something atypically genuine in her voice.

“That depends on the company we’re in,” he replied diplomatically. “Mostly, I call her Inquisitor and Halise in public.”

“What about in private?” she murmured.

He thought for a moment before deciding to tell her. It wouldn’t hurt him or Halise to do it. “I call her ‘my love,’ or ‘vhenan,’ or—well ‘Halise.’ I love the sound of her name.” He surprised himself, not having admitted that to anyone before, perhaps not even to himself.

Sera sat silent for a moment, staring at her feet. “Why aren’t you up there with her?” she finally asked.

Cullen clenched and unclenched his jaw, swallowing thickly in an attempt to keep his emotions in check. “You remember what happened in the Fade? And I’m sure she told you at some point why she ran off for two months?”

She nodded. “Yeah. So that red lyrium’s got her insides twisted up two ways then.”

“Mm,” he hummed in reply, stepping closer and leaning on the table beside her. “She saw me and nearly killed herself trying to kill me for killing her sister.” He allowed a heavy sigh to escape his chest, feeling lighter at having someone to talk to about it.

“That’s a lot of killing, even for her,” she mused. A humorous statement with little humor to back it up.

“I want to be with her, to help her and comfort her. But if she sees me…” He couldn’t finish. It was too unbearable to think about what had just happened and how much worse it could have been.

“Pfft! That’s easy!” she scoffed. Cullen turned to her with a raised eyebrow. She glanced at him with an expression that clearly told him the answer should have been obvious. “Just don’t let her see you!”

“Just don’t—” He was floored. The answer _had_ been obvious. “Maker’s breath,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re the commander around here. You can be so daft.” She rocked sideways, bumping her shoulder into his bicep.

“So can you,” he replied. Sera squinted at him. “No one will ever think you and Halise weren’t friends. And I don’t think anyone will ever call her ‘Her Gracious Ladybits.’”

A short burst of giggles erupted from her throat. “Ass.” She nudged him with her shoulder again. “Go on.”

He smiled at her as much as he was able before walking back out of the war room, resolved to be by Halise’s side in whatever way he could manage.

Over the next two days, Cullen sat in her stairwell for hours at a time. Alexandra had been kind enough to help him rig a candle from the bannister above the landing. There he sat, reading reports, approving requisitions that had arrived by raven, and grinding herbs for potions, salves, poultices, and draughts. Halise’s echoed moans and sobs ate at him, but he felt better knowing that he was protecting her in the only way he could. Josephine allowed him to set up a bedroll in her office for the infrequent and brief times he slept, and he used it to support his back when it ached from sitting in the simultaneously cramped and open space. Large windows lined the wall over the staircase. He looked up every so often to check the time and—selfishly, in his mind—remind himself that he was not trapped, that he was there out of his desire to keep her safe, that the pained screams escaping her body were different from those in Kinloch Hold or the Kirkwall Chantry. When Solas, Dorian, or Alexandra would assure him that Halise was in a deep sleep after being given a draught, he would creep up the stairs to sit with her. He lightly hooked their pinkies together, the small contact just enough to remind him that she would survive this.

Finally, Adan and Cole arrived. Cullen nearly wept at their presence, feeling as though his prayers had been answered. Adan had been dealing with red lyrium poisoning since the Red Templars sacked Haven, and was the only person in the Inquisition familiar enough with the remedies to save Halise.

But the first thing he did was kick Cullen out. “Commander, it is going to get very bad before it gets better. I can’t be worried that you’ll charge up those stairs and undo all the work I will have done. You have to leave. You can wait outside the door if you wish, but you can’t stay in here,” he said tersely, as he said most things.

“I won’t interfere. Just let me—”

“Commander, you must leave.” The bearded man’s brown eyes bored into his for a moment before he realized that all he was doing by arguing was delaying Halise’s healing. Solas and Dorian would be there the whole time, and he resigned himself to taking some solace in their presence and skill.

“Alright,” Cullen replied begrudgingly. “But I will be at that door should you need anything, and when you’re done.”

Cole walked down with him, stepping outside the door and shutting it behind them. “He can help,” the boy murmured. “I brought him so he could help.”

“I know, Cole,” Cullen responded softly, placing a hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

The otherworldly boy peered at him from under his overgrown blonde hair and overwide brimmed hat for a moment. “It’s not the same. Just one, not one hundred. That makes it worse, but also better. It’s not your fault. You know but you’re not sure.” Cullen stayed silent. It wasn’t necessary to tell Cole what he was feeling because he already knew.

Halise’s first bone-chilling scream tore through him like a searing hot blade. His teeth ached against the strength with which he clenched his jaw. From then, the shrieks and wailing became almost consistent. He squeezed his fists together so hard his body shook under the tension of his muscles. It was unbearable. Her screams would peak, undoubtedly a reaction to something unendurable happening to her. Then they would lull into heartbreaking, bitter sobs. The cycle continued for what felt like an eternity.

Tears slipped uninhibited down his face. He couldn’t stop his mind from working her into his memories of the harrowing chamber. The sound of her screams matched the sounds carved into his mind forever. He remembered the sensation of his mind breaking, fragmenting under the cacophony of cries and the push of a malicious demon against his psyche. His whole body began to tremble, breath sawing in and out of his chest painfully, control over his thoughts lost to him.

He felt a touch on his forearm, light as air. “That is not this, Cullen. It hurts her so she will live, not to kill. She didn’t die. You didn’t die. She won’t. You won’t.”

Eyes wide with fear, he looked at Cole. The ethereal boy was serenity itself. His touch grounded Cullen in reality, bringing him back from the teetering edge ever so slowly. His breathing slowed, and his surroundings came into focus once more. Only then did he notice that Halise’s cries had ceased entirely.

Not long after, Dorian opened the door, stepping out slowly. Fatigue painted his normally rich olive skin with a wan pallor. His hair and mustache were mussed, sweat coating his face and soaking through every part of his robes not made of leather.

“Well,” he panted, “ _that_ was awful. But she’s asleep now. If anyone needs me, tell them to stop,” he quipped with a weary grin. Before walking past them, he put a hand on Cullen’s back. “She’s safe,” he said quietly and sincerely.

Cullen turned to look at him, putting a hand on his shoulder in return. “Are you alright?” He knew concern marked his face. He and Dorian were friends, and he hadn’t wanted to sacrifice the man’s welfare for Halise’s. She wouldn’t want it either.

Dorian smiled warmly. “I’m fine,” he replied genuinely before quirking up his eyebrow. “Nothing a week’s sleep and a bottle of Rowan’s Rose won’t fix.” He nodded his head up the stairs. “I won’t keep you.”

“Thank you,” Cullen said. He gave Dorian’s shoulder a little squeeze before turning to walk up the stairs.

He stepped softly, as he had become accustomed, so as not to disrupt her sleep. Though he suspected it would take much more than a heavy footstep after what she’d just been through. Upon reaching the top, the scent of magic was almost suffocating. Adan and Solas sat next to a pile of bloodied rags and buckets of Maker only knew what liquid. Adan’s hands and arms were bloodied, and Solas had a scratch mark across his cheek.

They both stood when Cullen neared them. Adan’s voice cracked as he spoke, “I’ve left instructions on her desk for the night. I trust you’ll be staying with her.” It wasn’t a question. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on her progress, but she should sleep at least through the afternoon tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Cullen replied.

Adan peered down at Halise in the most tender way Cullen believed he’d ever seen the man look. “She saved my life once. It’s only fair I have the chance to return the favor.” He gave Cullen a tired pat on the back as he passed him to head down the stairs.

Cullen’s attention turned to Solas. The elf stared out the large windows at the mountains across the valley. He seemed to shake himself from his thoughts before he began to leave. His knees trembled under him, and he toppled over, just barely catching himself on one of the chairs. Cullen rushed to his side, but Solas waved him off.

“It is nothing,” he said, voice strained. “Worthwhile if only to ensure her survival. We cannot defeat Corypheus without her.”

The sentiment struck him as a bit cold, but Solas had done more than Cullen ever could have to save her, and he was exhausted, so Cullen brushed off the remark. “Thank you, Solas.”

He simply nodded, continuing past Cullen on shaking legs.

Cullen looked down at Halise. At some point during the day’s ordeal, someone had changed out the sheets beneath her and put her in a fresh gray tunic. Her red curls were knotted into a bun on the back of her head, turning her face toward him. The expression on her sleeping visage was untroubled—peaceful. Color had returned to her cheeks, which had filled out almost to their normal gentle roundness. The artery on her neck that had pulsed and throbbed red still bore the color, but sat flush with the rest of her skin. Her breathing came slowly and rhythmically, without the wet rasp of blood in her lungs.

He picked up the chair closest to him, moving it almost against the bed. When he sat, his shins pressed against the mattress. Regarding Halise once more, his relief poured from his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his chin on the heel of his hand and covering his mouth with his palm to prevent the sounds of his tears from escaping. Refusing to wrest his eyes from her, he drank in the sight of her. With every breath drawing her chest up and down slowly, he knew she was safe. _Thank the Maker._ She was safe.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd always wondered why, with all of the warnings everyone gives the Inquisitor about not even going near red lyrium, s/he never felt any adverse effects after being cut or punctured with it. 
> 
> This chapter was really hard to write. But it was also one of the sort of benchmark chapters in my mind. It had to happen. It wasn't difficult in the sense that I didn't know what to say. That was the easy part. Just that it pushed me to do the effects of something like PTSD or anxiety justice. Having felt them myself, it can be hard to describe, so I hope I did alright.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst ahead. 
> 
> Depiction of PTSD and panic attack below.
> 
> There's also a song in this chapter, which you can listen along to by clicking [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qq_5_WcuTIs).

“Fuck,” Halise groaned as she woke from a sleep she couldn’t remember falling into. A dull ache settled over her, penetrating down into her bones. Eyes still closed, she took stock of her pain. Starting from the top of her body, a muted headache pressed at her temples. Her throat and jaw were both a bit sore. It was difficult to take a deep breath, as her ribcage seemed tender, left side more so than the right. Her abdominal muscles bore the pain of days old exertion, as did her arms and legs. The fingers on both of her hands felt as though they creaked when she flexed them. At least her toes didn’t hurt.

It was time to open her eyes. They burned when the light of the sun reflecting off the snowy mountains hit them through her large windows. She was unsure whether it was because they had been closed too long or open too long. They shut involuntarily again before she tried to sit up. As soon as she moved, her left side screamed in protest, eliciting a pained grunt in response. But her back was sore from laying on it for so long—she’d become accustomed to sleeping on her side in recent months—so she started to roll onto her right side, if only to stop the light streaming through the window from decimating her eyes when she opened them again.

From the hip up, the rotation went smoothly enough. Something was holding her legs firmly against the bed. She cracked her eyes open gingerly to look down. A heavy, red-brown leather clad arm rested across her thighs. Craning her neck slightly to see past her shoulder, she saw the back of Cullen’s head resting next to her legs on the mattress, his ordinarily carefully coiffed golden hair disheveled and curly in the way she secretly loved. He slept slumped over in a chair with his head on his other hand, turned away from her. The hand under his head gripped the sheet tightly, and his shoulders twitched before his fingers squeezed her thigh roughly.

Halise grimaced and hissed out a breath as she forced herself up, fighting the pain in her ribcage with every inch. Finally upright, she gently placed her fingertips at the back of his neck, as she had done so many times when his nightmares overtook his body. “Cullen,” she murmured, raking her fingernails into his hair slowly.

When her voice didn’t rouse him, she leaned forward, wincing at the ache in her side as she laced the fingers of her other hand into his curls. She pressed her lips to the back of his head in a soft kiss. “Cullen. Vhenan, I’m here. It’s alright,” she breathed.

Cullen twitched again under her touch, inhaling a sharp waking breath and beginning to turn his head slightly. Halise let out a small sigh of relief, pulling herself back from him to allow him to sit up. He whipped his head around to face her as he rose. His expression bore a strange blend of sorrow and joy. She smiled warmly at him.

“Maker, thank you,” he sobbed, rushing without warning to wrap his arms around her just a bit too tightly. She held him close, but when a small yelp involuntarily left her throat he hastily released her.

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed, holding her face in his calloused palms, his autumnal eyes searching hers. She felt terrible for flinching at the pain, but her brow furrowed as she shut her eyes and bit the inside of her lip.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry, too,” she whispered, looking up at his face, so full of love and hope.

Cullen brushed a kiss across the vallaslin on her forehead, and another across her lips. “What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked earnestly.

She remembered. She couldn’t keep track of the days in her agony, but she remembered. She’d leapt out of bed in spite of her broken ribs, punctured lung, and beaten, poisoned body to attack Cullen. She hadn’t made it very far, Mythal’enaste, but she remembered the look on his face. It broke him. Then she didn’t see him for what seemed like days, though she was certain she’d heard his voice. But that may have been the red lyrium.

“For what I did. I attacked you, and I—” Halise struggled to coalesce her thoughts. Faint remnants of the lyrium’s grotesque song still echoed in her mind, clouding her thoughts. Perhaps she was glimpsing some understanding of what plagued Cullen so deeply. Her eyes drifted from his, unnamed shame tugging at her.

“Don’t apologize for that,” he replied, dropping one hand to her shoulder and using the thumb and forefinger of the other to lift her gaze back up to him. His thumb ran across the vallaslin on her chin, skimming her bottom lip. “You were poisoned. Your body was not your own.”

Her brow furrowed slightly again. “I feel, on some level, it may have been,” she replied. “That scares me.”

“No,” Cullen said firmly. “You’ve seen firsthand what red lyrium does to people. You should know better than anyone that you couldn’t really have been in control.”

Maybe she knew, but even the whisper of the idea that it might not have been true nagged at her conscience. Then came another quiet hum of the red lyrium still resonating in her. “I still hear it.”

“As do I,” he murmured.

The crease in Halise’s brow deepened. “How long has it been?” She could hear the concern flooding her voice.

“All told? About a week and a half since you were…injured.” Now he was having trouble looking at her. “I came back on the third day.”

“And how long have I been unconscious?”

“Five days.” The tone of his matter-of-fact answer was tinged with heartache, eyes still averted.  

Halise’s breathing had become erratic without her noticing. The edges of her vision started to get blurry. “I think I need to lie back down,” she muttered before letting herself fall out of Cullen’s hands and back onto her pillow, sending a jolt of pain from her ribs. Ow.

He sat with one leg partially on the bed, seemingly waiting for her to tell him whether to stay or go. “Would you…” She sighed. She hated to ask him to stay, knowing what the red lyrium must have been doing to him, because he would. It would be so selfish. She didn’t want to torture him, but she didn’t want him to think she was spurning him either.

“I’d…like to stay, if that’s alright,” he said softly. Creators, the man was a mind-reader.

“Of course! Only if the lyrium won’t hurt you,” she admonished quickly to satiate her conscience.

“As if I’d tell you it would now,” he replied slyly as he removed his boots.

Halise chuckled a bit, causing more pain in her ribs. “Oww,” she groaned, rolling her face against her pillow. Cullen placed his hand on her hip for a moment in a gesture of comfort before removing it to divest himself of his jacket.

“I mean it, though,” she said more seriously. “If this is going to make your symptoms worse…” Her voice trailed off. She wouldn’t say she didn’t want him there. It was as though her lips couldn’t form the words.

Wordlessly, he walked around to the other side of the bed, climbing in under the sheet and pulling himself as close as he could to her. She lay on her right side, perfectly positioned to curl up against him, though the initial movement hurt. He resolutely avoided touching her left side as he caressed her temple with his fingertips, his feather light touch ebbing her headache.

“Do you mind talking to me about what happened?” she asked tentatively after several minutes had passed.

“Are you certain you want to hear?”

Halise silently nodded against his chest. Her head rose and fell with his deep breath before he began. “I ran into the Temple of Mythal when the eluvian exploded, right after you were taken through. When I got to the back of the temple where you were supposed to have been, I found Samson. You very nearly paralyzed him, though he’ll walk again I’m told. He said—” He cleared his throat. “He said one of his men killed you. Said he watched you die. I left the temple and rode here on Moosh as fast as I could.”

“You rode Moosh?” Shock touched her voice as she turned her head upward to meet his eyes.

“I did. He’s faster than my horse, and has more stamina. I knew I’d get here more quickly, and I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t. I’m just surprised. That’s like if I told you I rode a dragon!” she remarked incredulously.

“It’s not so outlandish as all that.” He gently toyed with the fingers on her left hand that rested on his chest. He lifted them in different patterns, delicately stroking her knuckles with his fingertips. She sighed against him gingerly in a futile attempt to avoid the ache in her side.

“When I got back,” he continued, “Skyhold was very empty—still is quite empty—and I could hear you screaming from the main hall. Leliana stopped me in your stairwell to warn me about the red lyrium poisoning. Mostly I was just grateful you were still alive. But when I saw you…Maker’s breath, Halise, you were so ill. You’d lost so much blood, and you’d re-broken your ribs several times before I got there. Solas and Dorian had poured healing magic into you with no lasting effect.

“You screamed,” he murmured. Anguish kept a tight hold on his voice, threatening to shatter Halise’s heart into thousands of little pieces. His fingertips ceased their gentle dance over her skin. “You screamed and sobbed so loud and so hard I thought you would break apart right here before my eyes. At the same time, the song of the red lyrium called out to me, pulled at me. I—” His voice broke. “For a moment I—I felt like I was back at Kinloch.”

Halise hadn’t realized that her tears were sinking into the cloth of his tunic until she felt the wet spot growing against her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she squeaked, her voice weak against the sobs she held at bay at the cost of her comfort. The ache in her ribs was a small price to pay to stop from falling apart when she needed to be strong for his sake.

“After you passed out, Solas told me to go. Said that you couldn’t see me. I ran into Sera in the war room, and she gave me the idea to stay in here, but out of sight. So, for two days, while we waited for Cole and Adan, I sat in your stairwell, just under your bed. You wailed and cried for two days. I heard you lash out and snap your ribs at least five more times. You screamed—You screamed until your voice was nearly destroyed.” He was so quiet. Barely a whisper left his lips. His breathing became a little erratic.

“Adan told me to go when he arrived. Cole and I…waited outside your door and…the sounds…the sou—the s—” Cullen’s breaths came in short, hard bursts. Air shredded through is chest without any opportunity to deposit its life-giving properties into his lungs. Halise lifted her head to look at his face, her own pain in the very back of her mind. He trembled violently beneath her touch, eyes wide and darting about the room, tears streaming from them.

She had never seen him like this. He’d been panicked before, but never this bad. Never like this. She hauled herself up to tangle her fingers into the back of his hair, desperate to draw his gaze back to her while she spoke as soothingly as she could manage. “Cullen. Vhenan, I’m here. It’s alright.”

It didn’t work. “Cullen,” she soothed once more to no avail. All at once everything felt hopeless. How could she calm him? What could she do? Her lower lip trembled as her mind raced. She coiled up against him and laid her head on top of his, pressing her cheek to his disheveled curls. Holding him to her, she did the only thing she could think to do. She sang.

 

_The boots you wear are heavy_

_Rest now, I'll wear them for a while_

_And as you lie there sleeping_

_I'll walk down, and retrace every mile_

_All the lines around your eyes_

_Show the battles deep inside you_

_They are no match for me_

_They are no match for me_

_They are no match for me_

_And what I wouldn't do,_

_To wear your heavy boots_

_To wear your heavy boots_

_To wear your heavy boots_

 

Cullen’s body still trembled, but his breathing began to slow. The hand that had been stroking the hair at her temples gripped her shoulder tightly. Halise tried to stop her own body’s shaking.

 

_The sea is wide and angry_

_It's merciless, and waits for you to drown_

_Your arms are tired from swimming_

_The violence is written on your brow_

_I will take away the hurtful words_

_And swallow them with courage_

_They are no match for me_

_They are no match for me_

_They are no match for me_

_And what I wouldn't do_

_To wear your heavy boots_

_To wear your heavy boots_

_To wear your heavy boots_

 

His shudders slowed further as he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. He turned his head under her, pressing his nose into her collarbone. Sobs still wracked his body, so she continued.

 

_The warriors are waiting_

_For you, outside on the street_

_And though you're only waking_

_Rush now, you'll never miss a beat_

_All the hungry virgin eyes_

_With the scorpions in their smiles_

_When their greedy fingers rise_

_They are no match for me_

_They are no match for me_

_They are no match for me_

 

Cullen’s fingers still held fast onto her shoulder and back. She turned her head, pressing a kiss to his curls. “Cullen. Vhenan, I’m here. It’s alright,” she chanted a final time, dragging her fingernails tenderly against his scalp.

“I love you,” he breathed into her chest. “Please don’t leave me.”

Halise finally allowed a sob to escape her body before kissing his head once more. “I won’t,” she whispered. “I love you. I won’t leave you. I’m here. It’s alright,” she repeated. _It’s alright._

*****

She donned one of her more formal outfits the next day. Josephine had allowed the nobility to start returning to Skyhold during Halise’s unconsciousness, and it was time to sit in judgment. Samson had been brought back by the forward guard, and had languished in their jails for days awaiting her return to sound-mindedness.

The mood in her quarters was somber that morning. Dorian, having had the chance to replenish himself, cast more healing magic against Halise’s side, alleviating yet another modicum of the lingering pain. Despite the amount of magic and potions used on her, she had done so much damage in her frantic state that a powerful ache still thrummed through her body. She asked Sera to help wrap her from her stomach to her bust, knowing she wouldn’t shy away from bandaging her tight enough, as Cullen might have. Halise hissed and winced and moaned while Sera bound her, and after what she and Cullen had been through the day before, she couldn’t put him through that.

She carefully shrugged a gold tunic over her shoulders, nimble fingers fastening the ornate clasps from bottom to top. Putting on her tan breeches was a bit more complicated. She sat stark straight on her bed, threading her legs into the garment, then stood to pull the waistband to its proper position. She stepped into her boots, grateful that they sat relatively low when compared to some of her other pairs.

Fighting discomfort the whole way, she walked down the stairs of her quarters, opened the door, and strode as coolly as she could manage in order to seat herself in the Inquisition throne. She howled internally at the agony each motion brought. The nobility gathered in the main hall muttered and whispered about her absence and her stately appearance. She noticed that Josephine stood off to the side, rather than in her normal position. Halise subtly quirked an eyebrow her way, and she responded with a look that seemed to say, “You’ll see.”

The jingle of shackles became audible from the large door to the main hall. The population inside turned and made way, waiting to catch a glimpse of the infamous Samson. Halise peered ahead, expecting to see Samson first. Instead, Cullen preceded him, dressed in his full armor.

“Forgive me, Inquisitor,” he said evenly. She especially disliked hearing her title coming from him, necessary as it was. “For personal interest, I have relieved Josephine, as you might expect.”

He stepped up and took his place beside her. From where he once stood, Samson appeared. He still had the same greasy hair, but otherwise he looked different than the man she’d encountered in the temple. He seemed smaller—deflated. His reddened eyes were dimmer, glazed over in a way. His expression was still defiant, but there was less vigor behind his gaze.

“Knight Templar Samson, general to Corypheus, traitor to the Order. The blood on his hands cannot be measured,” Cullen announced with a bit more disdain.

The Inquisition guards bringing Samson up shoved him toward her, very nearly knocking him to his knees. That was not something she wanted to see. He was pitiful, standing hunched and shamed before her. As much as she wanted to hate everything about him, she simply couldn’t. She was angry, to be sure, but there could be no vengeance in taking his life. He’d already taken it himself.

“His head is too valuable to take. Kirkwall, Orlais—many would see him suffer. I can’t say I’m not one of them.” Cullen was clearly struggling to maintain his collected and strong demeanor.

Halise glanced back at him, regarding him as tenderly as she could without breaking her regal façade. “Judging him will affect as many as his crimes. Know that I do not take this lightly,” she said firmly, turning once more to Samson.

“The red lyrium will steal your vengeance,” Samson spat. “ _You_ know what it does. Corypheus only delayed my corruption.”

Cullen took a step toward him, expression hardening. Halise prayed for cooler heads to prevail. “Are you still loyal to that _thing_? He poisoned the Order. Used them to kill thousands!” His tone and volume rose with each sentence.

“Templars have always been used!” Samson scoffed, staring at Cullen. “How many were left to rot like I was? After the Chantry burned away their minds. Piss on it!” His eyes returned to Halise, boring into her. “I followed him so Templars could at least die at their best. Same lie as the Chantry. The profit just isn’t as pretty.” His voice turned in opposition to Cullen’s, sinking with every word.

“I found your people,” Halise said, shaking her head slightly. “They believed in you. Believed your cause was righteous. Maddox died for you. You were his only protector, and you left him to die.”

Samson sighed. “Not your business, Inquisitor.”

 _Fuck you, you greasy asshole._ She slammed her fist down on the wooden arm of her throne, sending a loud _thud_ reverberating through the room. “It is my business. I found him. I watched him die painfully. I gave him a funeral. And the only reason he died is because you, the only man who had protected him for _years_ , left him there. You knew that if he lived he would have to tell us where you went. So you knew he would die, but you went without him anyway, trying desperately to leave his inevitable death on my hands.” Her words came out thickly coated in venom. Maddox’s death had sat on her conscience for far too long.

“He was always going to die. They all were,” Samson said emotionlessly, denying Halise the satisfaction of seeing or hearing the effect of her harshness. “I saw what Corypheus was doing. So, yes, I fed them hope instead of despair. I made them believe their pain had purpose. Just like the Chantry does.” He laughed cruelly. “Right, Commander?”

Halise looked at Cullen. His hand clutched the pommel of his sword so hard the leather of his gloves creaked. His jaw clenched and unclenched several times.

“It ended as well as anything I’ve ever done.” Samson was morose and deflated once more. “Corypheus would kill me on sight. I’ll tell your people what they want. Everything I cared about is destroyed.” His head dropped forward, shoulders and chest heaving with the tense breathing that accompanied defeat.

His information was more valuable than his head—more valuable than making him suffer any more than he already had. “Very well,” she declared. “Raleigh Samson, you shall spend your remaining time serving the Inquisition. Cullen will be your handler. Perhaps he can get something useful out of you. If you’ve any luck left, you may save some of the lives you have otherwise condemned.”

“I don’t know. But I doubt the Commander believes there’s anything worthy left in me.” He was utterly devoid of any of the bravado with which he’d entered.

Cullen spoke up at that. “You’re not wrong.” He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. “But you served something greater than yourself once. Perhaps you can be made to remember that.”

Samson sighed heavily before turning away from them. The guards followed him through the main hall back towards the outer door to the prison cells, chains clinking and jingling the whole way. Cullen walked a few steps forward, looking after them until there was no sound left but the murmurs of the nobility.

Halise quietly cleared her throat, shifting her glance to Josephine. Flicking her eyes back and forth between Josie and Cullen to draw her attention to his demeanor, Halise spoke warily. “Ambassador Montilyet, are there any more judgments scheduled for today?”

Josephine noticed Cullen’s stance. “No, Inquisitor. Samson was the only party to be judged today.” She looked at Halise before snapping her eyes in the direction of the door to the rotunda.

Halise tried to convey her understanding using only her eyes. “Alright. I shall take my leave.” It took every ounce of self-control in her body not to wince or sound off at the tortuous sensation that shot up from her ribs when she stood and walked to Cullen.

“Commander,” she hinted quietly. “A word, if you would?”

He snapped out of whatever was going on in his mind, blinking hard before acquiescing. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

They walked together through the door to the rotunda, and Solas watched them pass through from his scaffolding. Halise smiled gratefully at him, causing a small grin to shatter his otherwise stoic visage. She would need to come back and talk to him soon to thank him properly for everything he’d done for her.

Cullen stalked quickly across the battlements. Halise struggled to keep up with her side nagging at her with every step. She didn’t ask him to slow down, however, because she could very nearly see the waves of rage emanating from him.

He slammed open the door to his tower, stormed toward a training dummy she didn’t know he’d moved, let out a roar, and punched it so hard that the stake on which it was mounted gave with a loud crack. The dummy toppled over, and Cullen pivoted back to Halise.

“Cullen.” Why was he so angry? Was he upset with her? Her judgment?

He marched over to her, face unreadable, and swept her up in his arms. He embraced her around her shoulders, mindful of her injuries to a fault. He slid a hand into the back of her hair, nuzzling his nose against her neck. Halise’s arms wrapped under his, her fingers holding onto his shoulders.

“I almost lost you to him,” he rumbled, “and I could have been him. I could have been any of them. The man’s a monster. He knew what he was doing when he corrupted those men to do everything they once stood against. When he stole away everything they cared for. When he almost stole everything I care for.”

“You’re not one of them,” Halise replied. “You’re not him. He didn’t steal me. I’m here.”

“His information had better be useful,” he huffed against her skin. “His life is good for little else.”

She pulled her head back from him, scanning his eyes, searching for something in him she could appeal to. “Please, Cullen. I know it’s a lot to ask…but don’t hurt him to get it.”

She chewed on the inside of her lip while he regarded her features, considering what she’d just asked of him. “Alright,” he agreed.

Relieved, Halise tugged her arms out from under his, sliding her hands between them and up his stubbled jaw. She pulled Cullen’s face to hers until their foreheads touched, closing her eyes to breathe him in. The scent of him—leather and oak and warm skin—filled her with adoration. This was a man who had seen the worst in so many people, who, if she really admitted it to herself, could have become what Samson was under even the slightest change in circumstances. Instead, he was one of the most honorable, intelligent, and loving men she’d ever encountered. She refused to let anything tear her from him. Not the Fade. Not Samson. Not Corypheus. Nothing.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to step away from this chapter after finishing the first part...Admittedly, I ate some ice cream before I came back. I hope you are still feeling the feels alongside me. 
> 
> The lyrics used in this chapter are taken from Nicole Atkins's song, "Heavy Boots," which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qq_5_WcuTIs). If you watch Roadies, you may recognize her name or voice from the season 1 finale. If not, she's awesome, and I highly recommend you check her out.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW below!!! Watch out!

“This,” Halise said as she tugged at something tucked into her shirt, “is what I wanted to show you.”

Cullen eyed her carefully, curious what it was she was trying to pull out from under her tunic. They stood in the garden with Chantry sisters and apothecaries milling bout, ruling out anything potentially inappropriate. The he saw the glimmer of a volcanic aurum chain against the fair skin of her collarbone. She hooked her thumb in the chain, twisting her head away from her hand as she drew it out, baring her supple throat in the process. He was so distracted by her otherwise enticingly bare neck that he almost missed what emerged on the end of the chain.

The coin. The coin Branson had given him the day he left for Templar training—for luck. The one he’d given Halise on his name day. A small loop had been welded to the top of the coin, with a single, thicker link in the chain closed around it. Halise held it toward him with her thumb still crooked around the links. He was dumbfounded.

When he didn’t respond, she cocked her head to the side, raised her eyebrows, and nibbled on the inside of her lip, leaning forward a bit to put her face in his eye line. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said worriedly. “I asked them to do it before we left for the Arbor Wilds. I had Harritt forge the loop and chain from volcanic aurum, then I had Dagna make an itty bitty rune for the back—” She turned briefly, using her other hand to lift her hair and expose a tiny green and gold rune resting over the bump created by her spine. “So it wouldn’t break.”

She looked so hopeful, and it was so thoughtful. Cullen couldn’t seem to manage to put the right string of words together.  She worried her lip again, furrowing her brow. “If it’s not alright, I can take it back to them to get it off.”

“Maker, no!” he answered too loudly, turning the heads of the nearby Chantry sisters. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, continuing, “It’s wonderful. I just can’t seem to find the words to say that.”

A warm, but close-lipped smile spread across her mouth. “I think you just did.”

“I—I suppose I did,” he replied with a small chuckle.

Ordinarily, she would laugh. His laughter always seemed to beckon her to reciprocate at least two-fold. Instead she turned back to the work she’d been doing before his approach, crouching next to the potted crystal grace she’d somehow managed to nurture into full bloom. She pulled some sort of powder out of a small satchel and sprinkled it on the soil around the fluted blossoms.

There was something almost melancholy about the way she tended the plants that day. Cullen had noticed it more and more since she awoke after her ordeal. She’d been smiling less, laughing less, humming less, walking everywhere heel to toe rather than periodically meandering and springing about on the balls of her feet. Much of the mirth she had for the many months he’d known her, even in the wake of Adamant, seemed to have dissipated. Her spark, once bright and untamable, was fading.

How could it not with the weight of all of Thedas on her shoulders? Halise had stood so firmly, brushing off so many things that could have eroded away her joy, but something had finally chipped away a piece of her, allowing the rest of the world to seep into the cracks and take what it wanted from her. Her red lyrium poisoning likely took the most. He could still hear the ever so faint song radiating from her blood, which meant that she still heard it. It still worked away at her, claiming as much of her mind for itself as it could.

In the past week, Cullen saw her perched on the battlements several times, legs dangling precariously over the endless valley below. Her booted heels knocked against the stone as she swung her legs out and back over and over. She stared blankly into the chasm, lips parted, breath smooth and even. When he approached or said her name, she turned to him languidly, giving the same close-lipped smile she had today. Every time it failed to reach her eyes.

Rather than leave her to her thoughts again, he crouched by her side. She tilted her head to face him, her eyes gazing questioningly into his.

“Halise, what’s wrong?” he asked discreetly. He rested his hand on her shoulder, and she put her hand over his, making slow circles with her fingertips over the landscape of veins and tendons raising his taught skin.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head and setting her red curls to swaying around her face.

Her unresponsive answer filled him with a sense of urgency. “I want to help, if there is anything I can help with. Even if you just need to talk.”

“I know.” Another strained smile. “I don’t—I—” She shook her head again. A pained sigh escaped. “Maybe I’m still feeling foggy. I just—I don’t know.”

“I’ll stay here with you,” he said firmly.

“No, that’s alright. There is business that needs tending. Cassandra and the others have returned, but with all the wounded from the Arbor Wilds, the journey back is taking our troops almost twice as long. We need to meet in the war room to sort out how we’ll keep things going until they arrive. I’ll head in in a few moments.” Right back to business.

Cullen grew truly worried. He didn’t know how to help, and she couldn’t or wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. It didn’t feel like obstinacy, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she simply didn’t want to talk to him.

Before the Circles fell, before he left the Order, he had always prayed to Andraste and the Maker for assistance and guidance, so he headed to the little Chantry near the garden for the first time in months. The sisters kept the candles lit around the room and at the altar. The pale stone statue of Andraste stood, arms outstretched in forgiveness. The candles in front of her and the sunlight streaming through the windows behind and beside her cast an ethereal glow about her, shadowing her face and lighting her left hand. Of course it would be her left hand.

Long-formed habits governed his movements. He dropped slowly to one knee before the statue, resting his elbows on the thigh of his bent leg. Lacing his fingers together, he set his forehead against his thumbs before closing his eyes. He centered himself with a deep breath, beginning only once he felt connected in some way to something greater than himself.

“She needs your help,” he pleaded. “Do not let her fall into darkness or despair. Do not let her lose herself to this. Please, do not let the world crush her. She cannot be lost. She must be the beacon for Thedas, and must not fall.” He breathed deeply again. Prayers were meant to be honest. “I need her. As much as the world needs her, I need her. I cannot lose her. Please, do not take her from me.”

He ended his solemn plea the way he’d always ended them. “Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light, and nothing that he has wrought shall be lost.”

Only then did he hear the creak of the door frame. Still kneeling, he spun his head to see who had been listening to his supplication. Fluorescent green eyes watched him. Halise rested her whole side on the door frame, covering her mouth with her fingers.

She dropped her hand from in front of her lips, letting her wrist smack the wood of the frame. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, making to turn away.

“No. Halise, wait.” He managed to quickly push himself off the floor against the will of his tired body. She pivoted to face him as he marched toward her, determination reignited in his heart. Hand outstretched, he grasped her wrist, pulling her into his arms where he held her tightly. A sigh escaped his chest when he felt her arms snake around his neck.

“You’re still afraid losing me.” It wasn’t a question. The heat of her exhalation across his throat sent an inward shiver down his spine.

“Of course I am.” This close, the mercifully indistinct song of the last of the red lyrium in her blood called to him feebly, its attempts to destroy the moment more easily thwarted than they had been in two weeks. “You’ve not been yourself since you awoke, and I’m terrified of what that means. It’s only a matter of time before Corypheus reemerges, and when that time comes…you will be thrown into his path again.”

His grip on her tightened. “Andraste preserve me…I must send you to him.” His words poured out tinged with bitterness and sorrow. He buried his face in her curls, inhaling the herbs and blueberries to steel himself.

Halise’s hand slipped from the back of his neck, and he heard a small tinkling sound when she reached between them. “There’s nothing to worry about. I have luck on my side, remember?” The edge of the coin brushed against his skin as she rubbed it between her finger and thumb.

Cullen sighed into her. “That’s less comforting than I’d hoped.” She dropped the coin back against her chest, wrapping her arm around him once more to clutch him closer to her.

“Whatever happens,” he breathed, “you _will_ come back.” He said it more for himself than for her, he realized. He had to say it out loud to believe it. He needed to believe it.

Halise pulled away from him just enough that their eyes could meet. She regarded him almost delicately before saying, “I will always, _always_ come back. You will not lose me. You won’t.”

“I can’t,” Cullen responded instinctively, prompting a crease in her brow. She rose onto her toes, pressing light kisses on both of his cheeks, then a more fervent one on his lips.

Need welled up in his chest. Every emotion in him surged out through his lips—passion, devotion, fear, love, anger, lust, worry—everything. He kissed her desperately, hoping to find the bits of her he was so afraid she’d lost. Perhaps recognizing the futility of his method of searching, he withdrew from her slightly, allowing their lips to feather across each other as their breaths mixed in the scant space between them.

“I can’t,” he repeated.

“You won’t,” she whispered in reply.

*****

Cullen didn’t see Halise at all the following day, which was unusual, but not terribly so. Reports from the Arbor Wilds began flooding into his office in droves, and he’d confined himself to his tower for the better part of the day reviewing them. His head ached and his eyes grew sore in the face of the never-shrinking pile of documents on his desk. He could only imagine what Halise’s desk looked like.

His worry for her had yet to subside. It sat in the back of his mind like a caged animal, pacing back and forth, yearning to pounce on the first poor soul to undo the latch. Unfortunately for Scout Jim, he undid the latch.

He walked into Cullen’s office while the Commander read a far too long list of those who had been killed in battle in the Wilds. Jim, apparently lacking any decorum or sense, leaned on Cullen’s desk to tell him that several of the soldiers and scouts, himself included, wanted a change in the guard duty rotation. The beast in the back of Cullen’s mind roared, striking quickly and decisively.

Cullen’s eyes drilled into Jim, and he felt the little tug on his scar as he snarled, “And you all thought the perfect time to make these demands would be when Skyhold is under-guarded because of a march that _none_ of you were part of that failed to defeat the _singular_ enemy you are guarding against?!”

“W-well, when you put it that way—” the scout stammered, backing toward the door slowly.

“ _This_ ,” Cullen interrupted, holding up the casualty report in his tight grasp, crinkling the paper, “is a list of the men and women who died so you could stay here on guard rotation! You should thank the Maker for their sacrifices and for your lives! Go! And tell your compatriots that the next one I hear complaining about the rotation _will_ get a change—to the night watch for the next two months!!!” He slammed the report down on his desk as Jim reached the doorway.

“Y-yes, Ser!” Jim squeaked out before turning tail, running full speed out of the tower toward the rotunda.

Through the open door, Cullen barely took a moment to register that dusk was settling over Skyhold before rounding his desk to shut it. Grasping the heavy wood with his hand, he noticed Varric approaching. The dwarf turned his head to watch Jim run past him, smirking and raising an eyebrow at Cullen when his head spun back around. Cullen grunted, releasing the door from his too-tight grip to make his way back to his desk.

“Cur~ly,” Varric called out in a very sing-song way upon entering the tower.

“What is it?” Cullen rumbled, certain he wasn’t in the mood for whatever it was.

“Always so angry!” Varric chastised, putting a hand to his heart as though he’d been wounded. “It just so happens that I’m putting together a game of Wicked Grace in the Herald’s Rest, and we’d like you to join.”

Cullen hated the name of that tavern. Halise didn’t even drink alcohol, let alone rest in a tavern of all places. He just gestured to the stack of papers beside him and sneered. “I’ve got a mountain of work here, as I’m certain you can tell, even from down there.”

“So it’s come to digs at my height? You really do need a break!” the dwarf chuckled. “Torch’ll be there,” he added suggestively.

That perked up Cullen’s ears, though he wouldn’t give Varric the satisfaction of knowing. “That’s supposed to sway me, then?”

“Yes,” Varric replied plainly.

Maybe it was the headache, or maybe Cullen was simply ill-equipped to go toe to toe with Varric in that moment, but he relented. He really did want to see Halise, and it wouldn’t be the worst thing to play a game of cards. He sighed, “Fine,” before standing and following Varric down the stone steps and into the tavern.

A large table was set up in the middle of the ordinarily bare dance floor, with flagons, chalices, and bottles of ale, wine, and brandy scattered over it. True to the dwarf’s word, Halise stood across the table next to the large fireplace talking very closely with Dorian. She was smiling. Really smiling. The kind that reached her eyes and lifted her pointed ears and made her so, so beautiful. Dorian whispered something in her ear and she barked out a laugh, pushing the mage’s bare shoulder playfully before turning her gaze to Cullen. He didn’t think it possible, but her smile widened further as she bounded over to him on her tiptoes.

“Cullen!” she crowed upon reaching him, a grin pulling heavily at his own lips. “Come here!”

She grabbed his arm, moving them both to a quiet corner of the tavern. Planting her feet and beaming at him, she pressed herself against him. Her fingers ran up and down the lapels of his leather coat as she bit the inside of her lip, raising her eyebrows almost salaciously. “What do you hear?” she purred.

Cullen took a moment to listen closely, not certain what he was listening for. “Nothing,” he replied, confusion piquing his interest.

“That’s right. Nothing.” Halise paused for almost too long. “It’s gone! The red lyrium is all gone!”

He listened again for a moment. No song. “It’s gone!” he echoed. Despite being in the company of their friends, he scooped her up off her feet, eliciting a little laughing squeal from her while clutching her whole body as close to him as he could manage. He felt her joy and relief rush through their touch and into him, racing through his blood stream like a drug. He peppered her face and neck with kisses as she giggled in his arms.

Cullen pulled back to memorize her face once more. “It’s gone,” he whispered hopefully.

“Mm hmm.” She nodded. “It’s gone. And I’m still here.” She pulled his face to hers for a more passionate kiss.

A love struck sigh came from the other side of the room. “How romantic!” Cassandra’s voice exclaimed. The sound jerked Cullen back to reality, reminding him of the very public nature of their display of affection. He set Halise back down on her feet, giving her one last quick peck on the forehead before releasing her.

“I suppose she told you?” Dorian smirked, lifting his brandy snifter toward Cullen as they rejoined the group.

“She did,” Cullen answered, allowing his smile to remain firmly stuck to his face.

“Excellent! Now the two of you can stop moping about. This fortress is dreary enough without the sound of your brooding feet dragging along the stone floors.”

“Now that the gang’s all here, save for a few _moodier_ members, let’s all take our seats and allow Ruffles to start dealing,” Varric announced.

Everyone settled into their chairs. Cullen sat between Varric and Blackwall, while Halise sat next to Josephine across the table from him. Varric nudged a flagon filled with ale toward Cullen. _To the Void with it,_ he thought, _I’m going to enjoy this evening._ He lifted the flagon to his lips, feeling the foamy, yeasty brew wash over his tongue, leaving a little tingle in its wake.

Josephine pursed her lips as she shuffled the deck. “I do hope I recall the rules,” she mused. “It’s been ages since I’ve played a game of Wicked Grace.” Despite her uncertain manner, she dealt the card with surprising deftness, sliding them in front of each player with precision.

Cole spoke up after flipping his cards. “There’s a crown on his head, but a sword, too. His head didn’t want either.”

Cullen chuckled. Varric chided the boy, “Don’t talk to the face cards, kid!”

Josephine took a measured breath. “Dealer starts. Ooh…I…believe…I’ll start at…Oh, three coppers!” Her brow immediately furrowed. “Do you think that’s too daring? Maybe I’ll make it one…” She paused pensively. “No. Boldness! Three it is!”

Iron Bull leaned over the table. “Seriously?! Who starts at three coppers?! Silver, or go home.” He threw down a silver piece.

Everyone went in with a silver piece, including Halise. She smirked coyly, flicking her eyes up to Cullen for a split second. “Just remember, I’m still new to this game! Take it easy on me.”

“Don’t worry, Torch. You’ll pick it up in no time,” Varric consoled her as she tossed her coin into the center of the table.

Hand after hand went by, money changing hands so much it was becoming difficult to keep track of who was winning. The ale likely didn’t help with that math. Cullen was tipsy. Not drunk like Sera, who lay under the table snoring, but just inebriated enough to loosen him up. People were telling funny stories from their pasts, like Varric’s tale about how Duke Prosper died—or “fell from grace,” as he so amusingly put it.

Cullen decided to chime in with a tale of his own. “The veteran Templars at the circle in Ferelden would sometimes haze a new recruit if they decided he’d gotten ‘too big for his breeches,’” he started. Halise leaned forward to listen, her eyes burning into his skin with their heat.

“The way they did it varied depending on the recruit and what he’d done, but most of the time the knights just took the recruit’s clothes—armor, breeches, and all—and hid them somewhere in the tower. On one occasion, the particular recruit, whose name I’ll leave out for his own dignity—”

“Aw, boo!” Halise interrupted with a giggle, blowing a little raspberry at him.

He smirked at her, continuing, “This recruit had all the knights’ hackles up. Something he said or did, I suppose. But they decided that they’d pull their same trick. Take all of his clothes and hide them somewhere. One of the knights gets the bright idea to hide them in the kitchen, but another one thought they needed to up the ante.”

The whole table was enrapt as he spoke. “So, this particularly bold knight traipsed through the garden until he found a garter snake. Harmless thing. They all snuck into the recruit’s chambers during the night and made off with his clothes—put them exactly where they said they would, only they topped off his neatly stacked armor with the snake. The next morning, when everyone was gathering in the dining hall for breakfast, we all hear a loud clatter coming from the kitchen, followed by what must have been the shrillest shriek I’ve ever heard coming from a man. The poor recruit ran out into the dining hall in nothing but his knickers! And this…profound silence fell over the hall as seventy mages and thirty Templars all turned to stare at once. Then, a slow round of applause began, and spread until every soul was on their feet. A standing ovation!”

Josephine was the first to break the silence with giggling as she asked, “What did he do?”

Cullen grinned while he finished the story, turning his eyes to everyone at the table. “Saluted, turned on his heel, and marched out like he was in full armor!”

Laughter rang out, rolling over everyone at the table for a few moments. Knees were slapped and the table was struck. It felt good to reminisce like that. Cullen sometimes forgot that he’d had any good memories from his time as a Templar at all. He resolved to try harder to remember more of them in the future as he watched Halise clutch at her stomach and lean forward to wipe the tears from her eyes.

Her head suddenly shot up. “Ooh! I’ve got one for you!” she shouted, smacking both her hands down on the table before she began.

“The clan decided to camp near this ruined fortress, right on the edge of the Tirashan, dark as the bottom of a well. The Keeper swore up and down it was safe, but some of the hunters, myself included, started hearing noises in the middle of the night. Groans and cries and screams, those sorts of noises.”

Her eyes sparkled, drawing everyone in around her. “The Keeper kept telling us that maybe the Veil was thin there, maybe we were just hearing demons, maybe it’s where some wolf was taking its injured pray. But none of us were having it. So a few of the other hunters and I decided one night that if we heard it again we were going into that ruined fortress and killing whatever it was that was making the sounds. We figured whether it was a demon or just a cruel wolf we’d be able to stop the noise and get something out of it.

“The next night, we all sat awake, waiting silently, almost holding our breaths, to see if the noise started up again. Both moons were up and full when we heard the first sound. We all sprang into action, creeping in our usual formation into the fortress. Everyone had arrows nocked on their bowstrings, ready to loose on sight. Then we saw them.”

She paused for dramatic effect, widening Cullen’s smile. Apparently her pause was too long. “What was it?!” Cassandra demanded.

“Well, if you must know,” Halise replied with mock frustration in her voice, “it was two teenagers from the nearby village, stark naked, going at it like rabbits! They didn’t even notice the room full of armed elves surrounding them until Borean let out a loud laugh!”

“What happened?” Bull prodded, a grin spread over his face in anticipation.

“They both looked up, saw all of us holding our bows and arrows and screamed! They didn’t even bother to pick up their clothes. They ran out of there, fast as you think, bare asses shining in the moonlight the whole way back to their village!” She was trying so hard not to laugh she barely finished the last sentence.

More mirth erupted around the table. Varric asked if he could use the story in his next book and Josephine managed something about ruining the Inquisition’s reputation through her unexpected little snorts of laughter. Halise’s nose crinkled, and she rested her chin in her palm while she tittered, letting her pinky curl against her cheek so she caught the end between her teeth. Cullen relished the sight of her. Another moment to save.

More hands were dealt, and Cullen’s ale-induced haze had begun to lift a bit. He noticed Josephine winning over and over, so he started to pay careful attention to her during the next couple of hands. He kept losing, but thought he saw Josephine rap her fingers against the table when she bluffed. He was nearly out of money when everyone else decided to bow out with what little they had left to them.

Cullen was too determined to win. “Deal again,” he demanded slyly. “I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.”

“Commander!” she replied with mock offense. “Everyone knows a lady has no tells.” She smirked uncharacteristically.

He leaned back a bit overconfidently. “Then let’s see if your good fortune lasts one more hand.”

“Ohh no, no,” Halise chimed in. “I’m out. But I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy watching this.” She settled in her chair before snapping an eyebrow up at him.

Two hands later he was out of money. He was so certain he’d figured Josephine out, however, that he demanded to keep playing.

“You’re out of coin, Curly!” Varric chortled. “All you’ve got left are the clothes on your back!”

Cullen didn’t think long enough before he retorted. “Then I’ll bet with those!”

Dorian snickered. “Now things are getting interesting! This, I’ve got to see.”

Josephine looked at Halise as if to ask for permission. The love of Cullen’s life turned to him with her brazen gaze. “Go ahead, Josie. Take him for all he’s got.”

“Woah ho ho!” Iron Bull interjected.

“Go on then,” Cullen said quickly, before he lost his nerve. “Deal.”

It didn’t take long for Cullen to get down to his smallclothes, and he got a crap last hand. There was a little uproar at the table when he folded. He removed his smalls from a seated position, lifting himself only enough to tug them free before dragging them down his legs. He set them on the table with the rest of his clothes.

Varric’s whole body shuddered with stifled laughter next to him. Cullen growled at him. “Don’t say a word, dwarf.”

“I tried to warn you, Curly!” he said plaintively.

“Never bet against an Antivan, Commander,” Josephine said with a catlike grin and a small shake of her head.

People at the table began to shift, scooting their chairs away to stand. “I’m leaving,” Cassandra said firmly. “I don’t want to witness our Commander’s walk of shame back to his tower.”

“Well I do!” Dorian added enthusiastically. He wasn’t moving.

Halise just leaned on the armrest of her chair, toying with the chain around her neck slowly as she eyed him. “Well?”

Cullen huffed, staring her down as he stood from his seat. He waited only a moment before marching out of the tavern. He welcomed the darkness outside of the door, inviting him to break into a full run back to his tower. He locked both the side doors when he got back inside, foregoing smallclothes as he donned a new pair of breeches and a black tunic. Then he slammed his backside down into his chair, holding his head in his hands while he contemplated what had just happened.

Only a few minutes had passed when he heard the third door open, looking up to see Halise walking through with all of his clothes neatly folded in her arms. She turned to lock the door behind her before moving to set his clothes down on one of his shelves. He felt her hand on his back as she stepped behind him.

“Well that was…bracing,” she said. He didn’t have to look to know she was smiling.

“I’m never playing cards again,” he lamented. “I don’t know how Varric talked me into that.”

“That’s a shame. Watching you lose made me want to play cards more often!” Her fingernails made gentle little circles on his back.

“I do not need help embarrassing myself in front of you.” He really didn’t.

“You were blushing. It was adorable!” She giggled.

“Maker’s breath.”

Another laugh emanated from her. “Would you care to play another few hands with me? I think I’ve learned from the best…I could have you out of your clothes in no time at all.” Her voice grew more lustful with every word.

Incensed by her heady tone, Cullen stood abruptly, knocking his chair off to the side as he turned back to face her. A little gasp escaped her throat when he grabbed her waist and rushed her, forcing her back into the stone wall behind his desk. The second her back hit the wall, he removed his tunic with a single well-placed pull, then put both of his hands on her ass, lifting her to his hips.

Halise curled her legs around him, heat that could melt even the thickest ice searing through to his core from her gaze. Her green eyes darkened when he pressed himself into her, rubbing his already hardening cock against the heat between her legs. She let out a strangled moan, eyes rolling back before closing. He captured her open mouth with his, sending their tongues crashing together. The heaviness of her breathing against him, coupled with the little squeaks and mewls that came with each thrust of his hips, spurred him on.

Using the pressure of his body to keep her upright against the wall, he moved his hands from under her, reaching between them to undo her pale green tunic. When he realized that it had no clasps, he ripped it open with one hard pull.

“Ah,” Halise gasped. “Cullen!” She hummed into him when he took her voice with his lips once more.

He let his fingers meander over her bare stomach, sliding them achingly slowly up her sides. Knowing now where she tucked the wrap of her breastband, he gave the end a gentle pull, then loosened the rest away from her body. Her breasts on his bare chest felt like a Maker-sent miracle. Their softness against his hardened muscle drew a growl from him. Halise rolled her hips into him to elicit another immediately thereafter.

With one hand on the back of her waist, he palmed one of her breasts, feeling her nipple pearling under his rough touch. He rolled it between his fingers, pinching and brushing across it to stimulate her in as many ways as he could. She tore her mouth from his, dropping her head back against the stone with a low groan from deep within her chest.

He needed more of her. Now. He dropped his hand from her breast, wrapping his forearm under her ass to pull her away from the wall. Her arms were around his neck, fingers weaving into his hair as he turned them back toward his desk. The bright green of her eyes was almost completely blacked out from wantonness and candlelight.

Upon reaching the desk, Cullen used his free arm to sweep everything off. This sent papers, ink, pens, and everything else flying in every direction. Seeing this, Halise pitched her hips against him again. He hissed out a breath at the sensation before he crouched a bit to set her down on the desk.

Cullen pulled her tunic over her shoulders and down her arms, taking great pleasure in the gooseflesh he left in his wake. He quickly unlaced her breeches, and she lifted herself just enough for him to slide them off. His ardor was galvanized when he saw that she, too, had forgone her smallclothes that night. She sat naked and panting with want before him on the desk that had borne some of his greatest stresses and woes. It was time for payback.

He yanked her to the very edge of the desk. Lowering himself to her, he started his trail of kisses at her lips, moving down to her ear, her neck, then her chest. He brushed his lips across the coin hanging between her breasts before he set upon her nipples. Both little peaks were taught in the face of his attentions. He licked and nipped and licked them again. All the while Halise hissed and mewled above him, running her fingernails along his shoulder blades and leaving a little shock on the back of his neck.

She seemed a bit startled when he kissed below her naval and continued his path down. “Wha—um,” she murmured.

He looked up, already on his knees before her. “Do you not want me to?” he asked softly.

“That’s not—It’s just—I never—I don’t—No one has ever—” She sighed, exasperated at her inarticulateness. “If _you_ want to…”

He ran his hands slowly up her thighs, savoring the way her muscles tensed and tightened under his touch. “Of course I do, my love.” He could smell her desire, and he wanted nothing more than to taste it.

Her lips parted, and she gave a little nod. Cullen didn’t wait for her to change her mind. He rotated his shoulders under her knees, canting her just a bit, then slid his hands up to her hips. Gripping her soft flesh tightly, he languidly kissed her inner thigh. His lips traveled slowly toward their destination, and upon reaching her sex, he placed a single kiss over her before setting upon her.

He moved slowly at first, to allow Halise to acclimate. Maker, she was so wet already. His tongue made little circles over her clit for a few moments before he dipped it into her, stroking up and back to her sensitive mound. She keened amidst the breaths that sawed in and out of her. Cullen brought his right hand down as he flattened his tongue, lapping at her firmly as his slid one, then two fingers into her, hooking them to massage the sensitive spot inside of her. His other hand moved up to her breasts, rubbing and squeezing her pert nipples.

She arched her back with a loud moan, rolling her hips against his lips and tongue as he worked her. Cullen knew she was close when she held her breath. He painted broad strokes over her clit for a few more seconds before he felt her wet heat clench around his fingers. Her body shuddered in waves as she came, clutching his hair and crying his name skyward. He worked his fingers deep within her, carrying her as far through her orgasm as he could before her muscles relaxed.

Halise panted out only a few breaths before leaning down and pulling his head up to kiss her. She made so many tantalizing little sounds as their tongues twined together, and his cock ached in his breeches. He felt her lithe fingers unlacing them almost before he’d thought to, and she continued to kiss him as she pulled them down past his ass, freeing him. Cullen stood, pulling his breeches down before kicking them away. She stared at his cock, so hard it nearly tapped at his stomach, then looked back up at him.

Without a second thought, Cullen pulled her back up to stand in front of him, quickly lifting her to his hips again. He turned them back around, pressing her back against the smooth stone wall once more. With Halise’s legs wrapped around him, he picked her up slightly, then lowered her down onto him. The two groaned in unison. She was so tight and so ready for him.

He thrust up into her, pressing her hard against the wall. Halise moaned, letting her head fall, her fingernails digging into his back. He ran his thumb back and forth over her nipple and kissed and nipped at her exposed throat while he fucked her. She cooed his name over and over like a prayer. His thrusts only got harder and more erratic with each utterance. He was so close. Halise whimpered his name a final time before she held her breath again. Her forehead fell onto his shoulder as a whine rose up in her throat. She keened at the very instant he felt her come around him. The added pressure sent him over the edge, and with a few hard thrusts he came into her with a loud growl.

They stayed against the wall for a few moments, catching their breath and kissing lazily. Halise laughed lightly. “I’m telling you, we should play cards more often,” she purred into his ear.

He chuckled against her neck. “Perhaps we should.”

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG. Long chapter is loooong! Sorry about that. Hope it was worth it, though. ^_~ I sure had fun writing it! Especially coming up with the stories to fill out the dialogue from the game. Took a little thinking, but I hope you're enjoying!
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a few things here: **NSFW**, then angst, then OMGWTFBBQ (that's right, I'm the internet in 2005).

“This,” Halise declared as she looked down at Cullen’s lion’s mane cloak draped over her bare skin, drawing out the word into almost a hiss, “decidedly does not fit me.” The heavy cloak hung off of her, the weight of the mane alone enough to keep her grounded. How powerful he must be to move as he did with this and a full set of armor. The mere thought of the strength of his body coiled desire in her belly.

She cast her gaze back up to him. Cullen was lying in bed, lambswool blanket pulled up over his waist, hair all curly, staring at her with that devilish smirk of his. His scar moved with every twitch of his lip, always drawing her attention back to his mouth. Oh, what that mouth was capable of. An internal chill spread goosebumps all over her skin just thinking about the previous night. Everything he’d done to her. Another little chill.

Despite the poor fit of Cullen’s cloak, Halise let a broad grin spread over her face as she fastened its buckles in the front, fabric just covering her sex. A wide swath of skin on her chest remained untouched, the coin Cullen had given her the only thing settled there. She put her fists on her hips, endeavoring to make her face as regal as possible before she scowled.

“Maker’s breath!” she glowered in her best attempt at an impression of Cullen. “Calibrations! Trebuchets and swords and…Inquisitor!” Her not-so-carefully crafted façade broke with an uncontrolled giggling fit.

“I do not sound like that,” Cullen scoffed with mock offense. A wide smile betrayed his amusement.

Halise stood under the largest part of the hole in his roof, through which a large tree had been growing since before their arrival. The leaves had turned to a brown-yellow, and several had fallen onto the floor around her as she donned Cullen’s cloak. Curious and hoping to prove her theory once and for all, she snatched up a leaf from the wooden floor before tiptoeing over to the bed.

She crawled on top of the blanket, getting just within arm’s reach of Cullen’s face, where she held up the leaf almost against his cheek. A perfect match. “Ha,” she murmured in her quiet victory.

“What’s that about?” he asked as he gently laced his fingers around her wrist, letting it go only after he’d placed a kiss where her pulse raced at the contact.

“I’ve always thought your eyes were like the color of leaves in autumn, and I’ve never really had the chance to compare them. Now I have. And I was spot on,” she preened.

The lion’s mane on her shoulders tickled the bottoms of her earlobes as she settled back, sitting on her feet as she kneeled next to him. “Why was it that you wanted me to try this on?” she asked, cocking her head to the side while she ghosted her fingertips down his arm.

Cullen took a deep breath, his autumnal eyes growing dark. “I like the way you look in my clothes,” he replied. The low timbre of his voice sent heat pooling within her core.

“So I should wear my clothes cut for a man?” Her voice was innocent, even as she trailed her fingers up his thigh.

“No,” he answered firmly, in spite of the little shiver she sent through him when she brushed up his once again hardening length.

“What, then?” Halise leaned forward, dropping her hands to the bed before she crawled to straddle him. The coin hung suspended in the air until she righted herself. She kneeled high above him, then grabbed the blanket covering him, throwing it down over his thighs to expose him to her.

She stayed like that for a moment, intentionally heaving breaths in and out so her breasts were almost exposed each time her lungs filled. She left the long tendrils of her hair that had fallen forward draped over the mane as she ran her fingers through it. Cullen watched her hungrily, every muscle in his body tense, like a predator ready to pounce.

Halise delicately wrapped her slim fingers around his cock, running them up and down the length of it just once—just to watch Cullen’s eyes roll back—before she guided him into her. He hissed as she slid him in, and Halise exhaled heavily, never taking her eyes off of him.

“What, then?” she repeated. “Should I only buy men’s clothes from now on?”

“No,” he rumbled. She rolled her hips once, throwing her head back from the pleasure brought by the movement.

“No,” she echoed after settling her stare back on him. Rocking onto him once again, she demanded, “Tell me, then, Cullen. Tell me what you like about it.”

Cullen’s lustful gaze tore into her, burrowing in the depths of her soul. “Because they’re mine. Because you’re mine.”

Halise began to undulate at a pace that could be considered leisurely. Cullen’s rough hands slid up her thighs and under the fabric of his cloak, grasping at her hips. “I never knew you were so possessive, Commander,” she chided, allowing a moan to escape when he tugged her down and forward, hitting the tender spot he knew lied within her.

An almost sinister laugh rose from Cullen’s well-formed chest. “You make me very greedy, Halise,” he growled just before thrusting up into her, hitting her sensitivity again.

She hummed at the delightful pressure, riding him harder. “Take what you will from me, Cullen. I’ll give you everything,” she groaned.

All she saw was one swift movement of his body before the room turned upside down. He pressed down on her, stealing kisses from her open mouth, sliding his tongue against hers while he drove into her. Halise purred and moaned into his lips.

Cullen’s experienced fingers skillfully unfastened the buckles around her waist, freeing her stomach and breasts from the cloth. He bit a trail from her neck to the bud of her nipple, swirling his tongue over it to soothe the bite away. Meanwhile, his hands pulled and held her hips up, allowing him to push deeper into her.

A little mewl escaped her lips when he began working the pad of his thumb over her clit, his thrusts growing wilder. She squeaked and whimpered his name as her pleasure mounted, her little lightning popping against his spine. Each thrust into her depths inched her closer and closer, the thrumming of Cullen’s thumb pushing her as far as she could go as fast as he could get her there.

Halise held her breath. Cullen must have known what that meant, because he worked her with greater fervor, sending her tumbling into an orgasm. Her world broke apart, and little stars filled her vision. She coiled up against the sensation, crying out into his disheveled hair and raking her fingernails up his back. He bucked into her just a few more times before moaning loudly into her collarbone as he came. His cock throbbed inside her with is release, giving her an immense sense of satisfaction. She did this to him. She was the one who brought on this carnal want, who offered herself to bring him pleasure, who satiated him so completely.

He brought his head up to meet hers, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. She smiled up at him, only grinning wider when he mirrored her expression. “I don’t know why I said that,” she said quietly, prompting a look of consternation from her love. She brushed a stray golden curl from his forehead.

“You already have everything.”

Cullen’s face softened into pure adoration and elation. “As do you,” he replied before encircling her in his arms and leaning down to kiss her passionately. Every ounce of his love seeped into her in that moment, and she reveled in the glory of it.

When his lips left hers she couldn’t help the little giggle that broke free from her throat. He looked at her, perplexed anew. “I feel compelled to tell you…” she said plainly, “You need to clean this cloak. It’s going to smell like sex after this.”

He dropped his head against her chest, a loud, sputtering laugh rolling out of him. Halise wove her fingers into the back of his hair, joining his amusement with a chuckle of her own. Creators, how she needed this man.

*****

They lingered in his tower until the afternoon loomed before them. Well aware that neither of them could avoid working all day, Halise and Cullen dressed side by side. She’d begun keeping a few articles of clothing in his tower, as had he in her quarters. It served her well that day, her shirt having been rended in half the night before.

When they reached the bottom of the ladder in Cullen’s office, they spread out to clean up the mess they’d made when he threw everything off to take her. Picking up the papers sent little shivers through her at the memory of how the items wound up on the floor. With everything righted, they unlocked the doors to the tower, but Halise dawdled about in Cullen’s office for a little while longer after he’d taken a seat at his desk.

To be fair, they did discuss work while she tarried, talking over troop numbers and what they could manage in the event of an attack until the bulk of them returned. It didn’t look great. If someone attacked the Inquisition either at Skyhold or anywhere else they’d been holding and protecting with any real troop numbers, they would likely be outmatched.

Terrible news in hand, Halise supposed it was time to convene in the war room. She and Cullen left the tower, pinkies locked together as they walked into the rotunda.

She looked straight up in the center of the room toward the rookery above. “Leliaaaanaaaa!” she shouted, drawing out the last two syllables like a song. “We’re meeting in the waaaaar rooooom!”

“I’ll be right down,” Leliana called back, laughter unmistakably tinging her voice.

Halise turned to Cullen, who smirked at her. “What?” she asked, feigning ignorance as she shrugged and continued ahead.

She released Cullen’s finger when they reached the main hall, gesturing for him to wait by the door to Josephine’s office while she ran across to the one leading out to the gardens. She stepped out into the lush greenery darting her head about until her eyes caught sight of Morrigan. Halise swept her arm out and back. “War room,” she called out. Morrigan nodded and followed silently.

Leliana was standing beside Cullen. Halise couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but her spymaster was giggling and Cullen smiled softly as he shook his head. Halise’s heart swelled at the sight. She appreciated the closeness between her advisors, grateful that, despite their varied methodologies and viewpoints, they’d worked together seamlessly for nearly a year. She was also glad that they kept each other’s company close. She hated being away, and knowing Cullen had people to lean on while she was gone was comforting.

They all entered Josephine’s office together. Halise smiled at the ambassador, tilting her head toward the war room when Josie heard them and looked up. Josephine smiled back and stood, following after them into the room.

Halise sighed contentedly as everyone took their places around the large table, relishing the moment of familiarity settling in her chest before they got to work. She’d gotten to know them so well, holding little doubt in her mind that they’d be her friends for the rest of her life. Something stirred in her, wondering what Cullen would be to her for the rest of her life.

Shaking herself from those thoughts, she turned to the business at hand. “Alright. To start things off today, Cullen and I were going over our troop numbers this morning.”

“Is _that_ what you were doing this morning?” Leliana chimed, smirking under her hood.

Halise pressed her lips together to suppress a grin when she saw the flush creeping up Cullen’s cheeks. “Yes, yes it was,” she replied, keeping her tongue planted firmly in her cheek. Leliana’s eyes just glimmered back her amusement at the display.

“In any case,” Halise continued, “our troops are severely depleted in most of Thedas, with the bulk of them still returning from the Arbor Wilds. For the next week or so, we should lay relatively low. Leliana, how are your scout numbers faring?”

“Many more of them have returned from the Wilds, and we have sufficient numbers to investigate anything you’d like. As usual, I’ve left a most of them in the field around Thedas to keep our intelligence up to date.”

“Excellent.” Halise nodded before turning to her ambassador. “Josephine, I know you’d sort of…cleared out Skyhold for a few weeks. Are there any whispers about what happened to me?” She hated to think that her injury and subsequent red lyrium poisoning would have any adverse effect on the nobility’s opinion of the Inquisition, but nobles were fickle and judgmental, and did not look kindly on anything or anyone they presumed to be weak.

“Fortunately, very little is being said about your time in the Arbor Wilds. Most had no idea you’d returned to Skyhold at all before you appeared to judge Samson, and they seem to have appreciated your…restraint in keeping him alive for intelligence purposes.” She was always so tactful in the way she worded things.

“I’m glad to hear it. Speaking of Samson, has he provided you with anything useful?” Halise asked Cullen hopefully.

“He is still suffering from withdrawal symptoms,” Cullen answered, a bit crestfallen. “I’ve been unable to question him as of yet.”

“That’s alright. We should have expected as much. The amount of red lyrium pumping through that man…” It took everything in her not to lose herself in thoughts of what it was like having even a bit of the stuff lurking around in her blood. “Either way, we need to start looking into where Corypheus is hiding. Reports from everyone seem to tell us that we’ve largely destroyed his support system, so he’ll be getting desperate right about now.”

“What about the archdemon?” Cullen asked.

“I can match the dragon,” Morrigan responded from next to Halise. They’d gone on a short excursion together. The whole thing was a bit of a blur, but Mythal was living in Morrigan’s mother—or something like that—and gave Morrigan the power to fight Corypheus’s dragon. Halise wasn’t entirely certain what that would look like, but she just kept her positive attitude and faith that it would work. Thinking otherwise would only have been counterproductive.

“Good,” Leliana said.

“But that dragon must be coming from somewhere,” Cullen interjected. “Perhaps we could have it followed?”

Halise nodded, letting a sigh escape through her nose as she pursed her lips. “That may be something for Leli—Ah!”

She was interrupted by a sharp pain shooting up her left arm from her hand. The mark started to glow brightly before shuddering to life with a loud _crack_ , sending another bolt of agony up her arm. She grimaced, squeezing her eyes closed tightly and leaning against the war table. Both her arms trembled under the strain of resisting the searing pain flying through the mark.

She opened her eyes just in time to see a blinding green flash in the sky. It sent shockwaves through the air, cracking several of the tiny panes of glass in the war room windows. Her mark snapped once more at the explosion. The entire room was filled with a sickly green glow, drawing everyone’s eyes to the windows to see what had happened.

“Shit!” Halise yelled. “Fenedhis! Fuck!” She clenched both of her fists so hard they shook when she screamed out the last word. “Corypheus reopened the fucking Breach!”

There it was. The giant swirling vortex in the sky, again. Storm clouds cracked with green lighting around the massive hole in the Veil, which incidentally, sat right where it had been the first time, over the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

“ _He_ did that? Why?!” Leliana’s tone was one of confusion.

“To force me to fight him. Either I close the Breach, or it swallows the world,” Halise said matter-of-factly.

“But that’s madness!” Josephine sounded more terrified than confused. “Wouldn’t that kill him as well?”

“Well, I did just say he’d be getting desperate.” _So stupid!_

“And he probably knows that we don’t have any forces to send with you,” Cullen added. His face bore his signature expression of worried anger. He looked into Halise’s eyes, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

Halise broke their gaze, shutting her eyes and running her fingers across her eyebrow. “I have to go. I have to go now.”

She turned, marching out of the room with her entire war council in tow. When they reached the main hall, she spoke to Leliana and Morrigan over her shoulder. “Gather everyone and come to the stables. And Leliana, please get my armor for me. I’m going to help Dennett saddle all the mounts.”

“Alright,” they both answered. She could hear them scatter from behind her. Looking around, she watched the dozens of nobles in the hall panicking and crying out in fear.

“Josephine, keep them calm,” she murmured.

“Yes, Inquisitor.”

Halise flinched at the use of her title. She still hated being called that.

By the time she reached the stables, Cullen was the only one left walking with her. She waved over Blackwall, then instructed Dennett and the stable hands to take out and tack up each of her companions’ mounts before moving to Moosh’s stall to bring him out. Picking up her saddle, still hanging over the wooden stall divider, she threw it over his back. As she reached under his ribcage to grab the cinch, she felt Cullen’s looming presence at her side.

Without sparing him a glance for fear her heart would shatter, she said simply, “I have to go,” as she tightened the cinch strap to the well-worn loop in the leather and hooked the buckle in.

With Moosh saddled, she moved to Sera’s little chestnut mare, repeating the process of saddling her.

“Let me come with you,” Cullen murmured.

She sighed. Everything in her wanted him to come. She knew her odds were better with him by her side. “I can’t,” she replied, refusing to let her voice break. “I need you here. If I fail—”

“You won’t!” he interrupted.

She forged on. It had to be said. “If I fail, I need you here to lead the forces to stop Corypheus and find a way to close the Breach.”

Cullen grabbed her shoulder, spinning her to face him. Behind him she saw her companions running toward them. Against her will, her expression softened when her eyes caught his. He searched her face frantically. “I can’t—” He clutched at her arms, the faint green glow of her overactive mark tinting his skin.

“You can,” she reassured him, placing her other hand on his leather coat over his heart. “I’m with you.”

He shook his head before pulling her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling every raw breath in and out of his body at the back of her neck. “I love you,” he whispered.

The sound tore at her heart. Halise pulled back enough to look at him. “I love you,” she replied, hoping her voice told him how much she meant it. With her arms encircling the back of his neck, she very nearly yanked him into a kiss. She pressed her lips hard against his, the fear that this could be the last time nagging at the back of her mind. He cradled her head and pulled her as close to him as he possibly could, returning her every sentiment in the touch of his lips.

She tore herself away again, resisting the sob she’d managed to trap in her throat. Leliana held Halise’s armor and her new rich blue coat, unmarred by the gaping hole and blood stains that had ruined her old one. Cullen released her, and she pulled the coat on over her shoulders.

Fastening the slightly larger breastplate to the buckles on the sides of the coat and sliding light bracers over her forearms hastily, she tried not to think about what might happen. Tried to focus her attention on winning the fight with Corypheus instead of Cullen’s desperate gaze. Moosh raised his knee to boost her up. She put one foot on his leg, and the other in the stirrup of her saddle, mounting her massive battle nug in a single swift motion.

Cullen grabbed the hand she left at her side, drawing her attention down to him once more. “Come back to me,” he said.

She couldn’t say she would. It may have been the first time she couldn’t say anything. She swallowed thickly, deciding instead to beam down at him. Her smile was genuine and conveyed everything she felt for him—everything they’d ever said, every kiss, every time they’d made love—every tiny piece of her heart was his.

“I love you,” was all she could reply in that moment. Halise clicked her tongue and spurred Moosh on, her heart ripping from her chest when Cullen’s hand slid out of hers, the last graze of his fingertips on her skin. She needed it not to be the last.

Her companions rode with her out of Skyhold at a clip. She didn’t look back.

_So fucking stupid._

*****

Cory-fuckface was standing on what was left of a balcony when Halise and her friends arrived, pontificating at some of the forward scouts that had run toward the temple when the Breach reopened. The orb that had given Halise the mark hovered over his clawed hand, glowing red with his corruption.

The moment he saw her, his already warped and mutilated face shifted to a look of rage and disgust. “I knew you would come!” he bellowed down to her.

“Didn’t you invite me?” she asked sarcastically, gesturing with her already drawn bow up toward the Breach directly over their heads. “Didn’t he invite me?” she asked Sera.

“Pretty sure he did,” Sera snarled, turning toward the mangled magister.

“That’s right. He asked me here so I could kill him and end this bullshit!” Halise shouted, smirking when she saw Sera out of the corner of her eye throwing up her two fingers in an appropriately rude gesture.

“And end it shall,” Corypheus growled.

With that, his claws and the orb sparked even brighter as he swept them upward. The earth below their feet cracked and shook, knocking her and several of her friends down flat on their backs. Turning on her side, she saw the landscape falling away. Her hair blew downward with the hard rush of wind that could only come from ascension. Corypheus had lifted most of the temple grounds into the air, suspending Halise far above any hope of reinforcements.

The ground ceased its trembling. Halise stood, glaring at Corypheus. “You have been most successful in foiling my plans,” he rumbled, “but let us not forget what you are. A thief, in the wrong place at the wrong time. An interloper. A gnat.”

“Who knew a gnat could tear down the forces of an ancient asshole, huh?” she quipped.

“I’d stay that’s pretty impressive for such a small bug,” Blackwall chimed in behind her, prompting an emphatic nod of her head.

“We shall prove here, once and for all, which of us is worthy of godhood,” the twisted magister continued, apparently unperturbed by her comments.

“I have no interest in godhood, you stupid motherfucker! Only in stopping you!”

Just then, the archdemon screeched from behind him. The decayed beast crept toward Halise, and she nocked an arrow and took aim. The moment the monster was out in the open, Morrigan, who had shifted into a massive purple dragon herself, swooped in, crushing the archdemon’s skull from the side and knocking both of them from the earthen platform.

With open space between them, Halise loosed her arrow at Corypheus. It caught him right in his collarbone, drawing a loud roar from him. “You dare!” he shouted.

“I dare!!!” Halise thundered back at him, yelling so hard she leaned forward with the force of the air flying out of her lungs.

All at once, everyone set upon him. Cassandra, Iron Bull, Blackwall, and Cole all raced toward Corypheus, while Varric, Sera, Dorian, Solas, and Vivienne all hung back. Halise stood between the two groups, loosing an exploding arrow into Corypheus’s head just before her friends reached him. Magic of all elements, arrows, and bolts rained down on him to seemingly little effect.

Iron Bull gave a booming battle cry as he approached the disfigured man, swinging his maul down in what would have been a crushing blow. Instead, Corypheus appeared atop the remnants of the second floor of the temple, firing down corrupted bolts of magic at Halise. He was just far enough away, and his magic was just slow enough, that she managed to roll out of the way, feeling the air move around it when it whizzed past her face.

She and her friends gave chase, climbing the stairs to reach him again only to have him retreat again. He did this several more times, drawing the group to a large, open area at the top of the floating temple, all the while taunting Halise’s Elvhen heritage with now-debunked myth. Shrieks and screeches had echoed between the immense chunks of earth that came up with them, the battle between Morrigan and the archdemon raging on in midair.

The moment Halise’s group arrived at the top of the final flight of stairs, the two dragons plummeted into the ground ahead of them, sending rocks and dirt flying. The platform shook with such intensity that Halise feared for a moment they would all simply fall to the ground below. From the clearing cloud of dust, she could see Morrigan in her human form, attempting to stand before crumbling to the ground. The archdemon emerged behind her, passing her by in favor of attacking Halise.

This wasn’t her first dragon fight. She’d been forced to put down several in Crestwood, the Western Approach, and the Storm Coast after they’d started attacking people. So when the wounded, ruined beast leapt at her, she and her party deftly avoided it. Everyone went to work, chipping away at scales and wings. Halise poisoned her next few arrows, sending them into the dragon’s head, neck, and two front legs. Each of the mages repeatedly laid down elemental mines under the lumbering demon’s feet, refusing to let it find purchase anywhere. Cole and the warriors cut away at tender pieces of flesh under its legs and belly, ducking under its tail when it swung at them. Sera, adding her own flair as she tended to do, hurled a jar filled with agitated bees at the thing’s head, chortling loudly when it broke open and the buzzing and stinging began.

It wasn’t long before the archdemon was spent, injured too badly to fly away or fight properly. Clenching her jaw, Halise withdrew the dagger she’d begun keeping at the base of her quiver and ran for the dragon’s head. It screamed when it saw her approaching, opening its mouth wide. She could only feel the roar coming from deep in her chest as she leapt into the thing’s gaping maw, thrusting the long dagger up, piercing every layer of sinew until she hit something soft and malleable. The swinging head fell slack in an instant, lower jaw hitting the ground and trapping her in the dark against the roof of the dead dragon’s mouth and its tongue.

Light streamed in only a moment later. The sound of Iron Bull’s voice lifting the hulking skull to free her seeped in. Halise jumped up and ran out as fast as the gummy tongue allowed. “Thanks, Bull,” she panted.

“Anytime, Boss,” he answered, clapping a heavy hand on her back so hard he knocked her forward. She looked back at him ruefully as he chuckled. “That was pretty badass.”

Before she could reply, a bolt of corrupted magic struck Halise hard in the chest, sending her flying backwards. She barely had time to register the fact that she was quickly running out of floating ground when she jammed her dagger into the dirt as hard as she could. It dragged for a moment, catching on something hard just as her body flew over the side. Her torso slammed into the wall of rock, putting far too much pressure on her apparently still-tender ribs.

They say not to look down for a reason. She glanced at the expanse below her, instantly realizing that she absolutely could _not_ fall. A scream left her throat. “Help!”

Blackwall’s hand gripped her forearm tightly, his other joining her elbow. He grunted as he lifted her back up to safety.

“Holy shit! Thank you!” she squeaked.

“A life for a life,” he replied with an earnest smile.

“Oh, don’t you dare start keeping track!” she huffed, pushing his shoulder playfully.

Everyone was still fighting Corypheus, who had to have been close to dead by then by her estimation. Blackwall rushed back into the fray, bashing the magister in the chest with his shield and knocking him off balance. Cassandra slammed into him next, forcing him to the ground. Then Iron Bull swung his maul into Corypheus’s head. The blow should have crushed him, but left him dazed and incapacitated instead. Good enough.

Halise grabbed the orb away from his confused fingers with her marked hand. Its green light suffused about the relic, and she stared at it for a moment. Unsure what to do, she decided to lift the thing toward the Breach and pour as much magic as she could through the mark. Her arm trembled when an intense beam of green light shot out of the orb into the Breach. With another—thankfully smaller—shockwave, the sickening vortex stilled for a split second before slamming shut.

For the moment, the orb had fulfilled its purpose, so she dropped it at her side. Corypheus managed to get to his knees as she approached him, tremendous boulders falling from their suspension around them.

“You wanted into the Fade?” she bellowed, letting her fury fly.

He reached weakly for her, perhaps trying to get her not to do what she did. With everything in her, she opened a rift around Corypheus. His features stretched and contorted with the pull of the Fade on the other side. He cried out pitifully a final time before he was swallowed. Done.

“Well, have fun you piece of shit!!!” she screamed at the spot where he had been, voice cracking under her exertion. She spat at the ground.

Her stomach lurched before her feet lifted off of the ground. The platform of earth upon which she’d been standing plummeted toward the ground, rocks and boulders crashing into it from seemingly every direction.

“Hold onto the ground!” she shouted to her companions, grabbing a nearby boulder and pulling herself down as flush as she could.

Dirt rose as the air whipped past them, lifting her long hair behind her. Everyone was close together, gritting their teeth to keep from screaming at what felt like their inevitable death. Solas managed to cast a barrier around all of them just before the ground met with…well, the ground. They felt the rumble of the impact, but mercifully, not the impact itself.

Halise’s head popped up first. “Is everyone alive?!” She tried not to panic, quickly counting as many people there as had arrived alongside her.

“No!” Sera yowled. “I’m dead!”

A disgusted noise came from Cassandra as she rose. “Very funny, Sera.”

“Well I thought so,” the blonde elf groaned, holding her back while she sat up.

“I’ll be sure to save that line for the novel, Buttercup,” Varric added.

Slowly but surely, everyone stood. Even Morrigan managed to stand with a little assistance from Dorian. A small sob of relief burst out of Halise’s mouth. She leaned forward after standing, bracing her hands against her thighs. They did it. And they survived doing it.

“The orb!” Solas’s voice rang out from a bit further away.

Halise moved toward him as he kneeled in the dirt, holding crumbling pieces of the Elvhen artifact. His ordinarily stoic face was fraught with what looked like grief. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, placing a hand on his back. “I know it meant a lot to you.”

“Not just to me,” he murmured, clutching a piece of it to his chest like the remnants of a destroyed keepsake.

Halise’s head was turned from Solas by the sound of Cole’s voice. “The sky is healed,” he said. “Healthy…whole. There’s just that left to remember.”

She followed his gaze up. The gray clouds still swirled slowly above them, forming a sort of scar. But an aurora twinkled little rainbows just below the healed Breach. A beautiful sight in the wake of something that could easily have ended the world.

“What do we do now?” the Seeker asked.

Halise turned around to look for Solas, but he was gone. She craned her neck in every direction, finding no sign of him anywhere. The pieces of the orb sat on the ground where he’d left them. Part of her wondered if he would meet them later on—only part of her.

“We go back to Skyhold,” Halise answered tearfully. “We go home.”

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo!!! 
> 
> Sorry so long again, but such is the hazard with single-perspective chapters. Sometimes ya just gotta get shit done, amirite? *holds up hand* Anyone? *waits patiently for a high five*
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	43. Chapter 43

 

“Maker,” Cullen murmured, kneeling in prayer in the little Chantry, “I can’t be there to protect her. I can’t protect her and I need her safe. Andraste, Maker, if you’re there, I need her safe.”

The short prayer—more plea than prayer—was all he could handle. Hot tears stung his eyes before breaking free to crash against the cool stone floor. He quickly wiped any evidence of their presence away as he stood to leave, knowing that, at the very least, he had to appear strong for the few people left in Skyhold. The simpering nobility sat petrified in the main hall. Guards on patrol stared at the reopened Breach instead of actually watching for enemies. Who could blame them, really? Halise had gone off to fight the enemy. Everyone already knew where the enemy was. Not in Skyhold.

More than once, Cullen found himself absently running his fingers across the leather over the patch Halise had embroidered into his coat. The heartfelt symbolism she’d meant it to be felt like a weak lifeline now. The only thing he could do was think about how they weren’t together. He didn’t want her to die because they weren’t together. He didn’t want her to die at all.  

It had been hours since she and her companions had left, and nothing had changed about the Breach. No one had received word. The sick silence of it all was deafening. It wasn’t only her, either. She took some of the people he’d come to care for most in the world. Cassandra, Dorian, even Sera and Cole. They’d all gone with her. Despite knowing that any one of them would put Halise’s life before theirs, he knew she’d be the first to sacrifice herself to save them.

Nothing he could do would distract him from his anguish, so he stood on the landing of the stairway from the courtyard to the hall. He didn’t pace. He just stood. He could see the Breach from there, as well as most of Skyhold, though his eyes remained fixed on the looming vortex. Waiting for something, anything to change.

He felt Leliana move in behind him before he heard her. The air just seemed to flow differently around her. “Leliana,” he mumbled, just to acknowledge her presence.

“I thought you hated it when I did that,” she replied.

“I do.”

A companionable silence settled between them for a moment. Both of them just stood and stared at the green hole in the sky. “She’ll come back, you know.” Leliana said softly.

Cullen stayed silent. He couldn’t respond for fear that he’d shatter his own hope. Halise had almost died in the Arbor Wilds. He’d never been so certain of her skill as he was that day. They’d taken down a behemoth together, for Andraste’s sake. And she’d done most of it, in his opinion. How, when his hope and faith were so tenuous and fragile now, could he make such a mistake again without getting her killed?

Leliana must have seen him shaking the superstitious thoughts from his mind. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fight so hard for the people they care for as she does. It is why she fights, not how, that matters. Skill is helpful, to be sure, and she has that in spades. But it’s the reason she needs to survive that will save her life. Halise must survive, not only to save Thedas, but because so many people love and need her. Not the kind of love one feels for a king or queen or god. The kind of love one feels for a mother, for a sister, for a daughter, for a friend, for a wife.” She gave Cullen a sideways glance with the last word. “Halise has made herself a family without even realizing it. If it comes to it, her family will save her. She knows that much.”

“You’re not wrong,” he conceded. “Although I do think she knows that we’re her family. And that’s why I’m so afraid. She will always put her family before herself, because that is only a tiny fraction of who she is and why we love her—why I love her.” He rubbed the back of his neck, nervous at what could come of his confessions of fear and love.

Leliana moved as if she were about to say something, but stopped. Cullen’s eyes widened at the miles high green beam of light shooting soundlessly up from the ground into the Breach. It only lasted a few seconds before the vortex stilled. The beam vanished just as the Breach seemed to clap shut unceremoniously with a single thunderous rumble.

Eyes still fixed on the sky, the din of cheering around them barely registered. Halise had made a similar beam the first time she closed the Breach. This had to have been her doing. It must have been her. He hadn’t felt the same nameless dread as when she’d been injured in the Temple of Mythal, but what if that was a fluke? Some bad mutton stew he’d eaten the night before that had showed its ugly face to terrorize him?

Cullen wanted to hope, but the Commander demanded that he rationalize all the ways it might not have been Halise that closed the Breach. Perhaps one of the four formidable mages she’d brought with her managed to do it. It could have been a power inherent in the orb Corypheus carried. Maybe her mark remained active even if she…No. It was her.

The next several hours were almost harder than the first. The sun had set, and the second moon was rising. A rather sizeable crowd was forming in the courtyard to welcome their heroes. _It shouldn’t be taking them this long to come back._ He needed to see her. He had to know she was alive.

Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana all waited on the landing. Josephine fidgeted about, echoing Cullen’s concerns out loud. Leliana hushed her, giving perfectly reasonable explanations for everything. Cullen worked as hard as he had in his life to keep his face stoic and strong in spite of the fraying of his nerves with every passing moment that Halise had not returned. Leliana’s sound reasoning should have been enough to soothe him as well, but only served as fuel for his spiraling thoughts.

Just as he thought his mind would spin itself apart, someone in the courtyard below shouted, “It’s them!!!”

His unblinking eyes fixated on the portcullis as murmurs circulated through the throng. Before he saw anything, a clamoring applause smattered with whoops and cries rose up into the air. From the angle where he was standing, the first thing to catch his eye was a large foot. Moosh’s large foot.

An eternity passed between Moosh’s appearance and Cullen’s first sight of Halise’s weary, but smiling face. Aside from a small cut on her chin, she looked otherwise unharmed. “Thank the Maker,” he sighed almost involuntarily, feeling like he might collapse from the sensation of terror and trepidation leaving his body in that breath.

Halise dismounted Moosh, but was swept up by the fanfare. Newly relieved, Cullen finally noticed that nearly every person in Skyhold had gathered in the courtyard. They surrounded Halise, shaking her hand and patting her on the back. She grinned and laughed through the mob, authentic appreciation and mirth so evident in her expression.

It wasn’t until she’d made it to the base of the stone staircase that she even had a chance to look up. When their eyes met, it was as if everything around them was still. She beamed up at him, but her eyebrows knitted themselves together in a look of long overdue relief. He couldn’t hear the sob that escaped her, though her shoulders and chest seemed to collapse in on themselves for a split second.

Nearly pushing the final few revelers out of her way, she sprinted up the stairs, breaking eye contact with Cullen only when she tripped. No momentum was lost, however, because she used her fingertips to compensate and right herself, continuing her break-neck dash toward him. With her first step onto the landing she leapt into Cullen’s open arms, knocking the wind out of him and almost sending them both tumbling to the ground, though fortunately she’d taken off her breastplate. A kind of weeping laughter poured out of her and into his neck as she squeezed him tightly. He could barely remember to breathe, pulling her fast against him with one arm around her waist and one cradling the back of her head. His eyes closed, fighting back the tears threatening to break free while he delighted in the sensation of her body safe in his embrace.

“It’s done. It’s over.” Halise’s voice was hoarse and strained when she said it, but that didn’t make it any less real.

Cullen pulled his head back, deprivation of the sight of her face having become too much to bear. He could feel his eyes darting across her countenance, taking in the flush of her cheeks, the curve of her vallaslin with every shift of her eyebrows and lips, her wide white teeth as she smiled at him, and the watery gaze of her beautiful green eyes, regarding his face in a similar manner. This close, the little yellow rings stood out sharply around her pupils, bearing the heat of the fire that undoubtedly burned in her courageous heart.

The gash on her chin looked a bit deeper than he’d originally assessed. He brought his hand to the edge of it, touching her skin lightly as he asked, “Does this hurt very badly?”

One side of her face winced, her left eye screwing shut. “Ow!” she chuckled. “Only when you poke it!” He felt the light tap she gave his shoulder as she laughed airily.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he breathed, moving his hand to cup her cheek.

Halise closed her eyes and leaned into his palm, taking a deep, shaky breath. She turned in his hand to press a delicate kiss against his calloused skin before resting there again. Maker, seeing her like that stopped his heart. When she opened her eyes, Cullen saw what Dorian was talking about at the Winter Palace. She looked at him as if the sun’s light shined out from within him—awestruck. He could only imagine then what the mage must have seen in Cullen’s expression that night, or the hundreds of days and nights before and after that. He was truly besotted.

In an instant, their little bubble burst, the sounds of the crowd below flooding back into his ears. Halise looked around them, withdrawing to hug Josephine, who reacted as one might expect—a bit teary-eyed. Halise murmured something into the ambassador’s ear before separating with a warm smile and moving to embrace Leliana. The spymaster kept her composure much more carefully than Josephine had, smiling gently and saying, “I knew you could do it.”

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t kill me, huh?” Halise replied with a smirk and quick raise of her eyebrow.

Leliana’s grin widened. “Immeasurably.”

Halise took another moment on the landing, looking over the people in the courtyard. Much as she had done on the eve of the battle in the Arbor Wilds, she saluted them, pressing her fist to her chest and bowing her head. The gesture served to stir up another grand cheer, which only grew when she turned back to lean into Cullen’s arms again.

This time, she faced the open doors to the hall, leaning her shoulder into his chest. Cullen rested his hand on her waist, and she twined her fingers together with his as he walked her inside. Her head rested on his shoulder the whole way. He peered down at her after they crossed the threshold. Her eyes were lidded, her lips parted, and she breathed slowly and deeply.

Halise let out a little pouting whine when she remembered that she would have to walk up the stairs to her quarters, so Cullen smirked and swept her off her feet. She tittered sleepily into his neck as he ascended the stairs. He set her down in a seated position at the foot of her bed, and immediately took to preparing her for sleep. It was the very least he could do after all she’d been through.

He started with her outer layers, removing the bracers she still wore over her forearms, then her bow, quiver, and belts, and finally her boots.  He set them all in their places carefully, doing his best to ensure they were as Halise liked them. Crossing back to her, he slid off her deep blue coat, draping it over her armor stand. She watched him as he untied the laces of her black breeches, lifting her hips off the bed for him to pull them off of her, exposing her long, agile legs and black smallclothes. Then he removed her lavender tunic carefully, drawing it over her head with the utmost delicacy and watching her long red hair fall across her shoulders and down her back. After placing the tunic and breeches on top of her dresser, he opened one of the drawers, drawing out her pale nightshirt. For the first time in the process, he stood her up, facing her back to him as he undid her breastband. With the band removed, he slipped her nightshirt over her head, gently sliding his hand under her hair to raise it free of the cloth and allowing her to push her arms through the sleeves before turning her toward him and sitting her back on the edge of the bed.

It was like a ritual—like something one did as a form of worship. There was something so familiar about undressing her. It was almost akin to reciting the Chant, meaningful while requiring great care and precision. Cullen felt that, by doing this, he could somehow express his reverence, bringing him closer to Halise. He knew she didn’t need him to do it, but that made him want to do it all the more—to feel the tender brush of his fingers against her supple skin, to support her, to give her his strength when she had her own, and when she had none.

Remembering the cut on her chin, he motioned for Halise to stay upright. He removed his coat and boots, setting them on the second armor stand, then went into her bathroom. He grabbed a small washcloth and the jar of elfroot and arbor blessing poultice she kept near her bathtub. She shook her head and smiled at him when she saw what he had in his hands.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured as he sat beside her.

Cullen dabbed the washcloth in the poultice before gently swabbing it on the cut. Halise winced in a manner similar to the way she had outside, inhaling with a little hiss and closing her left eye. “I wouldn’t want it to leave a scar,” he replied, smirking and feeling the little tug on his own scar.

She pressed her lips together and squinted at him, letting a wry grin pass over her lips. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

He simply smiled in reply. Satisfied that his work was sufficient, he stood to set the washcloth on the nightstand, then lifted the blanket to usher Halise into bed. She happily obliged, practically leaping under the covers before he set them down over her. He entered on the other side of the bed.

“Do me a favor?” she asked as she turned her head toward him.

“Anything.” He meant it down to his marrow.

“Take those off.” She waved her finger in an erratic gesture over his tunic and breeches.

Cullen let a laugh escape through his nose, acquiescing by removing his outer clothing, and leaving himself in only his smallclothes. Only then did he slide under the blanket and sidle up to Halise. Her back was turned to him, so he slid one hand over her and one under her, pulling her flush against him before encircling her waist with his arms. She hummed softly, rubbing her hands over his.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear.

“I love you, too,” she replied, sleep already touching the edges of her voice.

She was safe. Finally, Halise, his love, was truly safe. _Maker, thank you._

*****

Not even a week had passed since Halise defeated Corypheus, and Josephine had managed to assemble a massive banquet in the main hall at Skyhold. Nobility attended, but Inquisition soldiers, healers, and personnel were the focus of the affair. Halise wanted to thank them for helping her save Thedas. Cullen found the gesture endearing, if a bit unnecessary and extravagant.

Halise and her closest friends and advisors sat at a large table in the middle of the room. She sat in the center with Cullen and Sera on either side of her. Dorian sat next to Sera, and Cassandra was seated beside Cullen. Drink had been flowing freely for hours by then, and Cullen had…well, more than one flagon of ale by the time questions began to fly around the table.  

“So, Curly,” Varric began. This wouldn’t end well. “When do you think you fell for our little Torch? As in, was there a moment you knew?” The dwarf folded his hands together and rested his chin on his knuckles with a sly grin. Damn him.

Halise turned to him with a question in her eyes and, “You don’t have to answer that,” on her lips. But Cullen had been plied with just enough ale to respond.

“It’s been longer than I should admit,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck apprehensively. “If I had to place it in a single moment, though…I would say that it happened when she smiled at me in the war room at Haven after she closed the rift under the Breach.” His tone was certain, mostly because he was so certain.

“That soon after meeting her?” Cassandra chirped excitedly, clapping a hand over her mouth in shock as she blushed.

“Yes.”

“Our darling Halise certainly has a beguiling smile,” Dorian chimed in, peering around the already tipsy Sera with a raised brow and a little smirk that tilted his mustache, “but what made _that_ the moment?”

“It wasn’t necessarily the smile,” Cullen answered thoughtfully. “It was more…the way she smiled. None of us had exactly been welcoming when we first met her, but we hadn’t known whether we could trust her yet. After she closed the rift and saved my life and my men’s lives, I still wasn’t sure. Nor was I pleasant. Even so, the very next time she saw me she smiled so brightly, and it only got brighter when I finally smiled back. So many things were already resting on her shoulders, and so many people still feared her, and yet…”

He turned to look at her. She was biting the inside of her lip, grinning bashfully as she listened to his answer. His heart fluttered, and he very nearly forgot what he was saying.

“She faced it all with that smile. She just…lit the world.” Cullen leaned down and kissed her. It was passion and adoration and devotion all at once. She truly had lit his world when it was at its darkest.

“That is so lovely!” Cassandra gushed.

“It couldn’t have hurt that she was a redhead!” Iron Bull called out from the end of the table beside Dorian, lifting his cup with a salacious grin. Ordinarily, that would have sent a hot flush over Cullen’s cheeks, but he and everyone else around the table just laughed heartily.

“Or that she’s—well just look at her!” Sera slurred, making wide sweeping gestures over Halise with her arms, prompting another round of laughter.

“Now that you mention it, Sera, that definitely didn’t hurt,” Cullen replied with a wink. He really must have become quite inebriated.

“I think you’re drunk, Commander!” Halise mused.

“Finally!” Blackwall shouted with a husky laugh.

“Soft and warm and wet,” Cole cooed. _That_ sent heat rushing up Cullen’s face and ears. Halise very nearly spat out her drink, but managed to swallow it down with a little cough.

“That’s not one of those thoughts you share out loud, Kid,” Varric chuckled.

“It wasn’t!” Cole replied defensively, a new reaction from the increasingly human boy. “The ale. I was talking about the ale! It tastes funny, but it’s soft and warm and wet.”

Josephine let out a little snort of laughter, resting her hand on Blackwall’s arm. Ah. That explained some of the more weathered missives she’d been receiving over the past months. They were obviously much better at hiding it than Cullen and Halise had been, despite his best efforts.

The evening wore on in a similar fashion for the next several hours. Sera wound up under the table, Dorian wound up in Bull’s lap, and Vivienne and Morrigan wound up moving to a nobler table when things got too loud. Before long, people began to filter out of the hall, and when very few were left, Halise bid Cullen to accompany her to bed. Not that she had to ask.

She locked their pinkies together as they walked, leaning on his shoulder lazily. He let her undress herself when they got to bed, thinking he may have been a bit too unsteady to do her justice. When they’d settled under the covers, her head lying on his chest, he wasn’t tired enough to sleep yet. He had one more thing on his mind.

“The battle’s over, and Thedas will see a lot of change soon, yet I don’t care about anything other than you being alive,” he sighed, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair.

“It’s definitely a nice way to be…” Halise’s voice trailed off sleepily as she squeezed his side.

He smirked as his fingers made slow shapes on the small of her back. “I don’t know what happens after this.”

She yawned heavily, then snuggled into him, wrapping her legs around one of his and crossing their ankles. “That’s alright. Neither do I.”

Not long after, her breathing slowed. Her fingers twitched against his skin as she slept. Cullen slowly ran his hand over her hair. Part of him had become reasonably certain what came next. All he could do was find the right time and hope that she felt the same, though he’d begun to believe she did. _Please let her feel the same_.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright!!! Coryphy-shit is dead and everyone's happy again!!! What DOES come next, though? (*_*)
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so normally I wait until the end notes to say my thing, but I just want to say thank you to everyone who's been reading and leaving comments and kudos. Every single comment and kudo is crazy encouraging for me. That being said, if you're enjoying and haven't left one, please consider it. I've been pouring my little heart into this (now) 253 page document, hoping that people will like it, and seeing even the smallest sign that that's true brings me immeasurable joy. So thanks again, and I hope you enjoy this fluff-filled chapter!!!

“‘Maker, Halise. What’s this about a bear?’” Halise read that line of Cullen’s letter aloud, a satisfied smirk crawling up her lips as she chewed on the big bite of bird she’d just taken. She wasn’t entirely sure what kind of bird—goose maybe?—but Thane Svarah Sun-Hair had been kind enough to give them far too much bird and nearly a cart-full of potatoes in addition to the support of the Avvar of Stonebear Hold, so Halise thought asking what kind of bird it was would be looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Sera snorted, a tiny wad of chewed up potatoes flying from between her lips. “He thinks you’re playing,” she chortled, her voice muffled by the starchy food still rolling around in her trap. “Wait till he sees her. Wait—piss on that! Wait till she sees him! Commander Fuzzy Shoulders is going to shit!” She swallowed her mouthful to let out one of her signature laughs, bringing one up from Halise’s chest in response.

“Well don’t leave us in suspense, Halise! Will your fine Commander be joining us?” Dorian asked, picking more delicately at his plate of potato-bird. He may not actually have taken a bite the whole time they’d been there.

Nearly four months had passed since they’d defeated Corypheus, and rifts still needed closing all over Thedas. Everyone still clamored for the Inquisition’s help, and Halise had managed to do a lot more good without the evil asshole and his minions traipsing about and interfering. Not to mention that Leliana had been elected as the next Divine. There were still months of ceremonies and other things Halise didn’t quite understand before the Inquisition would lose its spymaster, but her influence was already spreading, opening doors for Halise and creating avenues through which she could help more people. It didn’t hurt that Halise and Leliana agreed on a great many issues, including things that needed to change in the Chantry.

Without the same need for a siege-ready army that could move anywhere in Thedas at a moment’s notice, Cullen had been able to leave Skyhold a bit more frequently. He’d joined her on a trip to Val Royeaux to negotiate protection for trade routes with a noble, though Halise had done most of the talking while Cullen just sat and glared. She’d been asked to an “interlude”—Orlesian for tea party—and he’d seemed next to giddy when she offered to let him stay behind, but they’d spent most of their time there together.

She hadn’t been able to bring him with her to the Deep Roads, and they were both better off for it. Between the masses of darkspawn and the masses of lyrium and the strange, cavernous titan they’d discovered, he would have been miserable. She knew mostly because she had been miserable, and she didn’t even suffer from lyrium withdrawal as he did. She had also worried he might be injured, a concern which, as it turned out, was well-founded. Blackwall nearly got his chest caved in by an ogre, and they’d all had to bring him to the surface to send him home to a healer and wait for Cassandra’s arrival in his stead. Nonetheless, the expedition had been…educational.

Cullen had opted out of the trip into the Frostback Basin, initially. Leliana had Chantry business she needed to attend to, and he was charged with maintaining her network of spies. By that, Leliana mostly meant that he had to leave them alone and keep track of the reports they sent in while she was away. Her trip to Val Royeaux was only for a week, but it was a lovely gesture, either way.

Halise, Sera, Dorian, and Iron Bull had been in the Frostbacks for a couple of weeks when she wrote him, and had accomplished most of what they’d set out to do. She wanted Cullen’s help for their last bit of business. They would have to fight another dragon. She’d written to him only two days before.

_Cullen,_

_I hope this finds you well. How did “maintaining” Nightingale’s people go? Was it all that you’d hoped it would be?_

_The Frostbacks are strange and beautiful. This whole place is both bereft and replete all at once. Green forests, snowy mountains, and a bog for some reason? We’ve accomplished much of what we set out to do here. I’ve closed the rifts in the area, learned A LOT more about Inquisitor Ameridan (we’ll talk about that later), and made allies of the Avvar here. I’ve also passed judgment on a bear. The Thane of Stonebear Hold thought the hold beast, a lovely bear called Storvacker, needed to pay some sort of penance for allowing herself to be kidnapped by the Hakkonites. Incidentally, I’ve gotten you a new recruit._

_Now for the bad news. It looks like we’re going to have to fight a dragon. It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that the thing is quite dangerous, and threatens all of the people in the basin, as well as our alliance with the Avvar. So this has to be done. I was hoping that you and a few of your best could join us down here for the fight. This big guy is no slouch, and I’d much prefer the company of you and your VERY skilled warriors to fighting him with just the four of us._

_I hope you’ll join us in the basin. I miss you terribly._

_I love you._

_Halise_

She and her friends were in their recently established, rather precariously perched treehouse camp when Cullen’s reply came. One of Harding’s men ran it up through the mountains from the base camp they’d established at the entrance to the basin. Halise had only just finished roasting the bird and boiling the potatoes when the scout arrived. She offered some to him before he headed back, and happily packed it up for him after he accepted. The gratitude on his face was evident when she handed the bundle of food to him. She had to admit, she’d become a pretty good field cook after more than a year to perfect the art of cooking over kindling.

Sitting in one of the wooden tree huts, Halise started reading Cullen’s response.

_Halise,_

_You know as well as I do that Leliana asking me to monitor her network is, aptly, like someone asking a dog to watch a flock of birds. He’ll just sit and watch helplessly as the birds fly around, doing their business without any worry for the lumbering beast staring up at them from the ground. So, to answer your question: yes, it was all I hoped it would be._

_It has been some time since I was last that deep in the Frostbacks, but you do make it sound beautiful. Not (fortunately for me) quite as beautiful as you, however. I’m glad to hear of your many accomplishments, though I must admit that I am not surprised in the slightest. Although, that last bit concerns me. Maker, Halise. What’s this about a bear?_

_Don’t think you’re fooling me with your reasons for wanting me to join you. While I don’t doubt that you have to fight a dragon, I know full well you’ve fought plenty of them. As a matter of fact, the four of you together have fought several together, if memory serves.  I also know that you know I hate it every time, so I will be bringing Dolan and some of his men with me. I suspect that by the time you receive this, we will already have been on the road for a day or two. Sit tight (if you can) at the base camp, and I’ll be there as quickly as our horses can travel._

_I miss you too. Every part of you. And I love you very much._

_Yours eternally,_

_Cullen_

Halise left the last bit out when she read the letter aloud, though Dorian shot her a look that told her he knew there was more.

“So Cullen’s coming to fight a dragon, huh?” Iron Bull asked, amusement creeping over his voice. “Can’t wait to see his face.”

“Not everyone gets a hard on for dragons like you, arse.” Sera flicked a little bird bone off her plate at Bull and stuck her tongue out at him as it bounced of his chest.

“I get a hard on for _other_ things, too, Sera,” he replied lasciviously, reaching over to goose Dorian in the side. The Tevinter jumped a little in response. A blush crept over his cheeks as he swatted at Bull’s shoulder playfully.

Halise laughed lightly. “Okay, okay. Let’s everyone try to keep our dicks in our pants until we’ve dealt with Hakkon Wintersbreath, hmm?”

“Speak for yourself,” Dorian said, eyeing Bull hungrily—more hungrily than he’d looked as his potato-bird, anyway. Halise pressed her lips together at the sight. “Besides,” he added turning his oversexualized eyes toward her with surprising heat, “we all know how you and your darling Cullen respond to _reunions_.”

Heat suffused through Halise’s face and up her ears. Sera sputtered and laughed loudly. “We know how it sounds, too!” The elf proceeded to make some very indecent noises.

Halise’s mouth fell open, prompting a round of laughter from her companions. She covered her face with both her hands. After a few moments, even she had to giggle a bit. Surely it wasn’t that noticeable, was it?

It was. Cullen arrived with Dolan and four other men only two days later. Halise found herself wrapped around him in their tent not even an hour after his arrival. She struggled to stay quiet as he touched and pressed into her, but his tender manipulations managed to plunder all of those little—and not so little—sounds from deep within her yet again.

In a way, she wished she felt ashamed that everyone knew what they were doing, but she simply didn’t. The number of marriage proposals from the nobility of every nation in Thedas had increased ten-fold since Corypheus’s defeat. Halise thought it was odd, given that she was an elf. The Elvhen of Thedas hadn’t exactly reached any sort of widespread acceptance as equals, so the variety of proposals came as a shock to her. Josephine had assured her that her status as Inquisitor far surpassed the nobility’s concerns and perceptions about her heritage, but also expressed concern over some of the proposals that came from notoriously anti-elf houses. Halise was just letting them pile up in a corner in her quarters with no intention of accepting any of them, despite what such a marriage could do for the Inquisition. Her heart belonged to Cullen, and no amount of political power or perception would tear her away from him. She counted on Josephine to maneuver on her behalf as delicately as possible, so as not to upset the preening nobility.

The next afternoon, they all went to deal with the dragon being inhabited by Hakkon. He’d made himself a massive retreat on a beach to the southeast of the basin. White and blue ice shimmered in the sunlight, visible from the distance as they approached. Hakkon sat perched on what appeared to be a pile of frozen waves, surveying his icy domain. His scales were a light gray, dappled with white patterns that resembled those worn by the Avvar. It was no surprise when he saw them from across his frozen territory.

They all spread out to keep the dragon’s attentions drawn in enough different directions to avoid much damage individually, though Cullen remained very close to Halise at first. Hakkon leapt into the air, screeching and breathing his icy breath down toward them. Halise, Sera, Dorian, and a petite mage with ashen hair from Dolan’s crew fired back at the beast with each pass. Halise loosed an explosive arrow into its hide, but was taken aback when it didn’t detonate on contact. The dragon rose up again, preparing to dive back down at them once more when the arrow finally exploded, knocking the monster from the sky and sending him plummeting into the ice head first.

After he hit the ground with a sickening _crack_ , the warriors and the dagger-wielding dwarf that had come with Dolan set upon the dragon. Halise and the others hung back on Hakkon’s wave-like perch and continued to pepper it with arrows and magic. Even over the deafening screams of the dragon, she could hear Iron Bull’s roaring laughter as he hacked and smashed at the beast.

Halise watched Cullen for a moment between arrows. His face was creased with the brutal seriousness of the task at hand. His sword gleamed as he brought it down over and over again into the sensitive parts of the dragon. He and the others were wearing away at the thing slowly, and it was starting to wane against the absolute onslaught of skilled fighters.

In an instant, Cullen was knocked backward by a massive whip of the tail. He’d only just managed to move his shield between himself and the swinging appendage, but it sent him flying. Halise’s heart leapt up into her throat, and she slid down the ice on her backside, running directly toward the face of the hulking dragon.

“Cullen!” she shouted as she ran, fear creeping up into her mind until he began to stand.

A little sigh of relief escaped her throat just as she very nearly careened into Hakkon’s mouth. Iron Bull snatched her wrist, stopping her torso but letting her feet slip out from under her on the ice. The dragon snapped at her toes, narrowly missing as she scrambled backward and Bull pulled her away. She gave him an appreciative nod, and he grinned in response.

“Mayhem?” she asked, raising her eyebrows toward the dragon’s ridged spine.

Iron Bull’s smile grew wider. “Mayhem!” he bellowed, dropping his maul only long enough to grab Halise by the waist and hurl her onto the beast’s back.

She landed on the hard scales with a little grunt, standing quickly to pull out a pitch grenade Harritt had designed. Struggling to maintain her balance on the shimmying dragon, she opted to run toward the head, hoping her momentum would keep her upright. Thankfully, she was right, and once at the head, she proned out, grabbing one of the spiked scales to pull herself as close as she could to the edge without falling into the thing’s mouth. With her teeth, she yanked the top off of the grenade, leaning over just enough to toss it into the wide open maw.

Hakkon sputtered and shrieked with the taste and sensation of the pitch coating the inside of his mouth. Halise rolled off of his head to the side. The moment her feet hit the ice, she shouted up to Dorian. “Fire!!!”

She was too far away to see his face, but close enough to see the fireball come flying from the end of his staff toward the mouth of the beast. “Bull, move!” she hollered.

The Qunari ran to the side of the dragon, prompting another screech just in time for the fireball to fly right into its mouth. Its head very nearly exploded in flames. The fire only burned hotter with every intake of breath the dragon took to howl, and it wasn’t long before the beast let out a final cry as it collapsed onto the ice dead, fire slowly burning itself out.

A great cheer erupted from the group. Dolan’s white teeth and blue eyes shone brightly as he laughed, accepting warm hugs and slaps on the back from his men and Bull. Cullen ran toward Halise, scooping her into his arms in a solid embrace. She laughed as her feet left the ground, leaning in to kiss him when he squeezed her tightly.

“I do wish you wouldn’t take risks like that,” he breathed after pulling his lips from hers, their faces still close enough that his nose rubbed against her cheek.

“To be fair, it worked,” she beamed. She could tell he couldn’t help but smile back before he kissed her again.

After finally setting her back on her feet, Cullen sighed heavily. “Is it time to return home then?”

Halise bit the inside of her lip before smiling slyly. “Not just yet. You still have to meet your new recruit.”

His eyes widened. “Wait. You weren’t serious about the bear, were you?”

Halise covered her mouth just enough to suppress a laugh, the corners of her smiling lips peeking out around her fingers as she nodded.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Sera chortled loudly in front of them.

*****

The stone was cold on the sliver of skin on Halise’s back that Cullen had exposed when he slid his hands under her tunic. The heat and pace of his breath sent an additional chill down her spine, combated only by the blazing heat of his palms gripping her waist. One of her hands meandered up and down his powerful arm, the other sat against the skin under his collar.

“We shouldn’t do this on the battlements,” she murmured into his ear after gently biting the lobe. Cullen growled at the contact, making Halise’s knees tremble.

“We have a few minutes before the next rotation,” he rumbled.

She grabbed his collar and pulled him back gently. The darkness of his gaze made her want to let him do whatever he wanted, but only moments before, he’d told her that they were needed in the war room. They were on their way to the hall from the stables where Halise was giving Moosh a good brush down, but after passing through Cullen’s office, he’d grabbed her up in a frenzy.

“You told me we had to be in the war room,” she chided.

Cullen deflated just a bit. “I know,” was his only reply.

“Alright, so let’s just go take care of whatever business needs dealing with, and then we can deal with _this_ business,” Halise smirked.

Something in his eyes changed. It looked like fear had seeped in ever so slightly. Cullen took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through is mouth, putting one hand in the pocket of his coat and using the other to rub the back of his neck. Halise cocked her head at him, raising her eyebrows to encourage him. Something was clearly bothering him.

“Alright,” he replied almost shakily. “Let’s go. But I’m going to walk ahead of you, because if I touch you or have to watch your hips sway in front of me, there will be no getting me off you.” He smirked, crinkling his scar and the corners of his eyes endearingly, his trepidation seemingly having vanished.

Halise laughed through her nose. “Okay.”

Cullen walked ahead of her for a few steps before withdrawing his hand from his pocket. Something fell out behind him, making a little tinkling sound when it hit the stone pathway. Instinctively, Halise reached down and picked it up, holding it out toward his back.

“Cullen, you dropped thi—ahhh…” She stopped short and physically recoiled, taken aback by the sight of what she held in her hand.

A ring. A gold ring with a twining band inlaid with what looked like stormheart that came together with an emerald and a sapphire cut in almost leaf-like shapes. It sparkled and shimmered in her hands. Absolutely beautiful. Was this—

“Andraste’s ass!” Cullen’s uncharacteristic outburst drew her eyes—which she’d just realized were so wide they ached—away from the glittering ring and up to his panic-stricken face. She still held the ring at arm’s length, frozen in the position she’d been in when she realized what it was.

“Halise! That’s—That-um—It’s—” he stammered.

“Is this—Is it-uh—” she replied, equally flustered. Her breaths came very slowly and very wobbly.

Cullen gently took the ring from between Halise’s shaking thumb and index finger. He clutched it in both hands, staring down at it as he murmured, “This—It was mean to be a surprise.”

“Oh, it is definitely a surprise,” Halise replied, incredulity threatening to overtake her tone when she didn’t mean it to. She hadn’t blinked since she picked the ring up.

“We’re less than 100 feet from—Do you think you could act surprised anyway?” Cullen looked up at her so hopefully that her heart melted, unfreezing her from where she’d been standing.

She walked over to him, putting her hand on his jaw to try to sooth him. “I don’t think I could act any other way right now,” she grinned.

Cullen smiled back at her, worry still touching at his eyes. “Let’s hurry, then, so that doesn’t wear off.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her to his side as he turned to walk into the rotunda. She brought her other shaky hand to her lips to stifle a nervous laugh and the tears that threatened to break free of her tenuous composure.

He very nearly ran them through the rotunda, their haste not allowing Halise even a moment to look around and feel her usual sadness at Solas’s disappearance. Cullen stopped them abruptly just before the door leading into the main hall, heaving a deep breath before he looked at her once more. Smiling so tenderly, he breathed, “I love you,” before opening the door.

At the other end of the main hall, where Halise’s throne normally sat, all of her friends had gathered. Everyone had almost giddy grins on their faces. Even Leliana, Morrigan, and Vivienne’s teeth were visible through their smiles. Sera and Dagna’s fingers were laced together, and just behind them, Dorian stood flanked by Iron Bull. Blackwall stood just behind Josephine, one of her hands having disappeared behind her as well. There was so much love pouring toward Cullen and Halise.

Halise’s eyes stopped near the center of the crowd. An unfamiliar auburn-haired man beamed at her. Halise looked him up and down to see that he was holding someone’s hand, and she followed the second arm up to the face of a woman with curly blonde hair and a watery smile. Next to her was another unfamiliar blonde woman, and next to her was…Cullen? Wait, what? A man with a face that looked uncannily like Cullen grinned at her. He had no scar on his lip, and his curly hair was shorn a bit longer than Cullen’s, hanging loose to brush against the tops of his ears. It must have been Cullen’s brother, which meant that the two blonde women had to be his sisters.

Halise turned to assail Cullen with questions, only to find him on one knee before her. All at once she was shaking again, her previously menacing tears flowing freely. Knowing what was about to happen hadn’t dampened the reality of it at all. This was real. Cullen’s face bore all of the love between them, and his hand shook as he clutched hers carefully.

“Halise,” he began, voice nearly trembling, but so full of affection, “I have loved you almost from the moment that I met you. That love has grown with time, overtaking every part of my heart and soul. I’ve watched you face insurmountable odds with your unbreakable and unbridled spirit and joy, never failing to leave me in awe of how incredible you are. Your love makes me feel safe, makes me feel like I can overcome anything, and puts me at an utter loss when I try to understand how it could be so boundless and selfless.” He nodded his head toward the crowd. “Varric has never given a more fitting nickname than he gave you. You are my Torch. You lead with courage against the shadow. You light a world that would otherwise be shrouded in darkness, and you’ve given me the most powerful beacon in all of Thedas—your heart. I love you with every ounce of my being, and you would make me the happiest man in the world if you would be my wife.”

Halise could barely see through the veil of tears flooding her vision. She blinked hard with a sob to expunge them along with the breath she’d been holding in her chest. She thought she heard her voice say, “Yes,” as she nodded her head, but she couldn’t be sure that it had actually come out. She grew more certain it had when she watched Cullen slide the beautiful ring onto her finger and heard the din of cheers coming from the front of the room.

Cullen stood and wrapped her in his arms, kissing her hard before pulling his face away to hold her to him as tightly as he could. She felt more hands on her back and sides, their friends having joined them to express their congratulations. Cullen and Halise separated to receive the felicitations, being wrapped in more warm hugs and handshakes and compliments.

Halise felt Cullen’s fingers brush across her arm, drawing her eyes back to him. One of the teary blonde women stood next to him, beaming at Halise. “Halise, this is my older sister, Mia,” Cullen said softly, his hand resting on Mia’s back.

Halise sobbed again involuntarily, grinning wildly at Mia before rushing to embrace her. “I’m so happy to finally meet you!” she cried into Mia’s long blonde curls.

“Likewise, Inquisitor,” Mia replied.

“Oh, please call me Halise!” she laughed, pulling back from Mia to look her over again. She had warm brown eyes and the same nose as Cullen.

Mia chuckled, disbelief touching her expression. “Alright then. Halise, it is very nice to finally meet the woman who stole my brother’s heart and brought him back to the living.”

“All in a year’s work,” Halise replied. They shared a laugh.

Mia stepped to the side, pulling the auburn-haired man forward. “This is my husband, Marcus,” Mia said.

Halise grabbed Marcus up into a hug, clearly surprising him. “Pleased to meet you!”

“Me too—I mean, I’m also pleased to meet you,” Marcus stammered with a grin. Over his shoulder, Cullen’s younger sister gave a little wave.

“Hi, I’m Rosalie! It’s so nice to meet you!” she cried as she surged forward, beating Halise to the punch by hugging her first.

“You too,” Halise replied, looking into Rosalie’s blue eyes.

She only barely saw Cullen’s brother before he wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her into the air, squeezing a cackling laugh out of Halise’s chest. “Branson!” Cullen barked, warning in his tone.

“What? I’m just greeting my future sister-in-law!” Branson crowed as he set Halise back on her feet. He held her out at arm’s length, giving her a once-over so obvious that it made her laugh again. “Good-NESS! My brother certainly knows how to pick a wife!” So _this_ was the bold charmer she’d heard so…well, little about, frankly. Up close, his eyes were blue and his nose was shaped a bit differently than Cullen’s. It also seemed that he was about an inch or two taller than Cullen was.

“I’m glad to hear you approve,” Halise retorted with another little chuckle. “And very pleased to meet you.”

Branson picked up Halise’s hand, bending dramatically to brush a kiss across her knuckles. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“That’s just about enough of that,” Cullen said firmly, taking Halise’s hand back into his own and squeezing. There was that little possessive streak, adorable mostly because it was so unnecessary. Halise loved him like the flower loved the sun, and she would always look to him for her light. He needn’t worry about her gaze being drawn to any other.

“Josephine has been kind enough to set up a little banquet for us,” Cullen continued, looking into Halise’s eyes in a way that made her want to shut out the rest of the world. “We should sit so you can get to know everyone a bit.”

Halise just nodded and smiled warmly, all of her love flowing toward him. Her mind raced over every little detail of the day. Her life was about to change again, more than it ever had before and so much for the better. And she thought defeating Corypheus had been a big deal.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call me crazy, but I find it hard to believe that a guy like Cullen would wait almost three years to pop the question under the circumstances. Hence, the canon divergence, which will have to continue for obvious reasons. ^_~
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, comments/con-crit are welcome.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting NSFW again in this chapter. These two can't seem to keep their hands off each other!

“Halise,” Rosalie chirped from next to Cullen’s betrothed, holding her hand tightly, “tell us a story about Cullen when you met him.”

Cullen held Halise’s other hand, and gave it a little squeeze when she turned to him with a smirk. “Well,” she started, turning back toward an enrapt Rosalie, “he was handsome. I knew that from the moment I saw him. But he was so obstinate! I watched him almost put his fist through a table when he thought I wasn’t looking.”

Rosalie gasped. Branson and Mia both snorted out laughs from across the table. “That sounds like Cullen,” Mia said, grinning while she shook her head at him.

“Why did he do that?” Rosalie asked to urge Halise to continue.

“He found out I wanted to seek assistance from the rebel mages instead of the Templars to close the Breach. But he still said he would back me up, and he did, however begrudgingly I imagine it was.” Halise tightened her grip on his hand. Cullen worried that she was thinking about what happened after that, and ran his thumb across her knuckles to try to ease her mind.

“Loyal to the Order even after you left, eh brother?” Branson asked. His tone was friendly, but Cullen thought it may have been a loaded question. He hadn’t exactly kept in good contact with his family after Kinloch, though they’d been quick to rekindle their relationship with him when he’d first written to them months ago.

He opened his mouth to respond, only to be stopped cold when Halise chimed in. “He may have left the Order, but there were still a lot of good, skilled men there. Many of them joined us, in fact.” Her voice had bite to it. “Loyalty is an admirable quality.”

Branson looked taken aback at Halise’s reaction. Honestly, so was Cullen. “It is, indeed,” Branson replied contritely with a little bow of his head. “I hadn’t meant to imply otherwise.”

“I’m sure you’ve become familiar with the tendency of the men in this family to put a foot in their mouths just when you least expect it,” Mia interjected to break the tension. “Even my husband’s been indoctrinated!” She gave Marcus a nudge with her shoulder. The man just puffed out a little laugh while looking at Mia with eyes filled with love. The sight made Cullen grateful for the man’s presence in her life.

Halise’s tone softened. “I’m quite familiar with that, actually. It’s alright.”

Rosalie piped up with another request. “Ooh! Tell us about the first time you two kissed! How did Cullen do it?” she demanded dreamily. Cullen leaned forward to shoot her a look of warning over Halise’s shoulder. Rosalie raised her eyebrows and shrugged with a sly smile.

“Actually, I kissed him,” Halise answered, eliciting another little gasp from Rosalie. “I’d already decided I wanted to. Then he…surprised me in my quarters. After I recovered from the shock I just hauled off and kissed him!”

“That sounds terribly romantic! And so bold! Was it wonderful?” Rosalie practically had stars in her eyes.

“It was. But I’d caught a cold, so it ended with me coughing so hard I almost lost a lung!”

Easy laughter rang out over the table. It felt like an eternity since that night. Cullen realized then that moments before he’d met Halise had begun to look different through his mind’s eye. Dimmer, in a sense. But those with Halise in them were so bright and clear, perhaps because he’d been so carefully collecting them.

The evening continued like that for several hours. Branson and Halise were quickly building rapport through quick witted repartee, Rosalie obviously adored her, and Mia seemed to genuinely enjoy her company. Mia and Marcus eventually excused themselves to tuck in their son and daughter, as did Branson to tend to his little boy. Rosalie simply exhausted herself, and Cullen beckoned Dolan over to escort his sleepy sister back to her quarters. He eyed Dolan suspiciously as he led Rosalie away, the Knight-Captain having been a bit more enthusiastic about the task than Cullen would have liked.

He and Halise retired to her quarters. He’d begun staying there every night when she was home, his tower having become somewhat of a standby for when she was away. That night, he realized that he would likely have little need for his own quarters soon. Nobility had been milling about at Skyhold during the proposal, and it would undoubtedly be the talk of Thedas by morning, erasing the need for secrecy.  

Cullen savored the feeling of Halise’s skin when they crawled into bed, both of them too excited to sleep. She held her hand up and away from her, fluttering her fingers to watch the glint of the candlelight shine back into her eyes from the glittering stones. “It’s so pretty,” she sighed. “Where did you get it? _When_ did you get it?”

“I snuck out to a jeweler in Val Royeaux while you were at that incessant ‘interlude.’”

Halise pushed herself up with the ringed hand resting on his chest, the most incredulous open-mouthed smile plastered on her face. “ _That’s_ why you were so excited not to go!”

“Well, that and I hate those things,” he chuckled, raising his hand to brush her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t know whether to tell you that you have to go to all of them now or that you never have to go to one again!”

“Maker, please let it be the latter.” At that Halise laughed airily.

“And how long has your family been in Skyhold?” She let herself down so part of her chest sat on top of his, and her chin rested on her hand. Cullen caught her trying to sneak another glance at the ring, and she grinned impishly at him.

“They got here the week I was monitoring Leliana’s people,” he answered, absently lifting her fingers in no particular order.

Halise’s eyes widened. “So was that all a ruse, too?”

“I wish it had been. But the fact that they mostly work without oversight gave me the chance to get my brother and sisters settled here before you wrote to me.” Cullen let his other hand slide to the small of her back.

Halise crept further up his chest to gently peck his lips. “You’re better at secrets than you think,” she murmured, sliding her leg over to straddle him. “Except that whole dropping the ring, thing. That was a disaster!” she laughed.

Cullen grimaced before mirroring her gaiety. Her body shook with the force of his laughter below her. When they stilled, she gazed up at him, the purity and warmth of her adoration radiating out from her eyes and her soft smile. He pulled her in for another kiss. The fabric of her nightshirt skimmed across his chest, and the heat of her core settled over him. The pace of the kiss quickly turned from languid to passionate as he felt himself harden under her. She opened her lips to him without any prompting on his part, allowing his tongue to slip in and tangle with hers.

Halise’s arms snaked around Cullen’s neck. He groaned into her mouth when she bucked her hips into him, sending a little jolt of pleasure through his body like electricity. When she did it a second time, a growl rose from his chest, and he grabbed onto her back to roll them over. Once settled on top of her, he wrested his lips from hers, sitting back on his heels so he could remove her smallclothes. She cooperated, lifting her hips for him to draw them down and kicking up her legs in front of him to slide them off of her. Dropping onto one arm, he pulled off his own smalls, tossing them aside with abandon.

Cullen leaned back in to kiss her already open mouth. The fingers of her right hand tangled themselves in his hair while those of her left slid down his back, past his hips, and dug into his backside. He could feel the curl of her lips grinning against him as she squeezed again, pushing her hips up toward him to spur him into her. “Sathan,” she purred between kisses, “I need you inside me, vhenan.”

The sensuous sound of her voice resonated through him with a shudder. Cullen pressed down to let his cock slide across her wetness once, pulling a little moan from her throat. Halise hissed in a breath when he pushed into her. He thrust his hips slowly, relishing the sensation of her around him. Their passion was punctuated in moments like this one. She hummed with the depth of his movements, clutching at his ass to push him as far into her as possible. Cullen slid his hand up her smooth thigh, under the nightshirt she still wore, and up her stomach until he reached her breasts. He grazed her pearled nipple with his fingertips, and Halise let out a muffled mewl into his mouth.

Desire to close any space between their bodies overcame him, and he lowered himself onto his elbow before wrapping his arms around Halise’s back. Their chests and stomachs pressed together, serving only to increase his desire for closeness. With a fresh urge to devour her, Cullen moved his mouth down, nipping and kissing from her lips to her shoulder, then back up to her ear. Halise trembled hard against him when he ran his tongue up to the point of her ear, compelling him to drive harder into her. He focused his attentions on her ears, sending noisy little pangs of pleasure through her until he felt her suck in a deep breath. He plunged into her with renewed vigor and a craving for the gift of her release. She threw her head back into the pillow with a magnificent, broken little cry as he felt her clench and shudder under him. Her hands shook with the force of her grasp while she came, and a tiny shock popped at the base of Cullen’s neck. His orgasm was not far behind. A few ragged thrusts later it surged through him, and he spilled himself into her with a long groan—the feeling only intensified by the wet heat of her panting breaths on his throat.

“I love you, vhenan,” she breathed against his ear. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Cullen pulled his head back enough to look into her eyes. “Must we wait?”

A breathy laugh came from Halise’s lips. She rubbed her nose against his before answering, “Yes. Because I don’t want to die when Josie finds out we didn’t.”

Cullen pressed his lips to hers with a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. I rather like living.” If he thought about that honestly, he wasn’t sure he could still say that if they had never met. Halise had saved him over and over again in every way imaginable, protected him almost at the cost of her own life, and his life and love were all he had to give in return. He only hoped that would be enough.

*****

The next three months were an exercise in prolonged torture. It seemed like every day there was some new minute, unimportant detail that needed Cullen and Halise’s immediate attention. Josephine was running around Skyhold in a frenzy visible only to those who knew her well. Like a duck, she maintained a calm exterior and paddled furiously beneath the surface. Still, Cullen suspected that she felt the most in her element she had in a long time. Acts of diplomacy comingling with event planning—especially since the event was Cullen and Halise’s wedding—were her well-defined forte, and she handled them with grace and aplomb.

However, anytime Halise was called away in those months, Cullen was forced to stay at Skyhold to conquer the minutia. The whole affair was a wasteful display for the benefit of no one but the nobility as far as he was concerned, so he was “decidedly unhelpful” according to Josephine. Thus, much of the decision making had to be done by correspondence with Halise on the road. Josephine started writing to her after seeing one of Cullen’s missives before he sent it.

_Halise,_

_This whole thing is insipid. Josephine wants us to choose between blue flowers and other blue flowers. I don’t know which are which. Come back!_

_Yours eternally (or until this wedding kills me),_

_Cullen_

_P.S. I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t start the letter with that, but this process is infuriating!_

She let him send the note, but included one of her own alongside it.

_Halise,_

_What your fiancé is trying to say is that the florist needs to know whether we want Delphiniums, Cornflowers, Forget Me Nots, or Love in a Mist. They are all so different._

_Josephine_

Cullen scrawled another quick note on the bottom of Josephine’s letter before attaching it to the raven.

_They’re not different. They’re all blue._

Halise came back two days later.

Almost worse than the ridiculous amount of inane details, Cullen had to be fitted with a new suit. The same obnoxious Orlesian tailor appeared in Skyhold again, though this time he didn’t poke Cullen with any pins or comment about his “form.” He only mused that Halise was a very lucky woman, to which Cullen replied, “No. I am the lucky one.” The tailor hummed in reply, and blissful silence fell between them for the duration of the fitting. Cullen had to admit, though, he liked his wedding suit.

He was also grateful that his family had allowed him to make arrangements for the tending of their farm to give them the opportunity to stay for the planning and the wedding. Rosalie and Mia fawned over Halise, making certain that they were present for every dress fitting, and Halise included plans for Mia’s daughter, Dawn, in the ceremony. Branson and Marcus, along with their sons, Alden and Owen, spent a lot of time with Cullen, and he was enjoying teaching the boys chess, though Owen seemed more interested when he asked for more lessons. Marcus had an easy wit about him that matched with Branson’s, keeping Cullen on his toes.

Branson encouraged Cullen to show Alden some of the basics of swordfighting, despite the boy only being only eight and a half years old—Cullen quickly learned that the half was very important. Branson had married much younger than either Mia or Cullen, and his wife died during childbirth, leaving him to learn to care for a baby alone. Fortunately, Mia and Marcus had married by then, and Mia helped care for Alden while she was pregnant with Owen. Cullen regretted missing every second of it. He hoped to make up for lost time, and teaching and playing with the boys and Dawn gave him a sense of belonging in their midst.

Alden was determined to learn how to fight with a sword and shield like his “brave Uncle Cul,’”—a title that never failed to make Branson laugh—so Cullen had set him up with a small wooden sword and shield and put him to work alongside the soldiers. One afternoon, Cullen was putting the resident watch guards through their paces, paying special attention to Alden, and noticed the boy was becoming frustrated with a particular parry. Cullen stood behind him and pulled and pushed the boy’s malleable little body through the motions a couple of times before asking to see it again. When Alden’s next movements were fluid and successful, Cullen felt himself overcome with pride, and grabbed his nephew up off the ground in a hug, drawing out a peal of laughter from the brown-haired boy.

Only after setting him down did Cullen notice Halise leaning on the wooden beams of the sparring ring with a tender smile on her face. The grin was almost obscured by the curled fingers of the hand she was resting her chin on, but he saw it in the corners of her lips and eyes. Halise’s warm gaze was quickly averted when a curly head of blonde hair bounced over to her hips and reached up to tug on her tunic.

Little four-year-old Dawn had been smitten with Halise since the moment they laid eyes on each other, and had been following her around everywhere. Cullen’s pint-sized niece had even stamped her tiny foot and demanded that Halise be the one to tuck her in several nights before then. Outside of the sparring ring, Cullen couldn’t hear what they talked about when Halise leaned down, but his heart swelled as he watched Halise tap the end of Dawn’s button nose, cracking his niece up before lifting the little girl onto her hip and walking toward a beaming Mia. Dawn gently stroked loose tendrils of Halise’s curls as they walked, and Halise rubbed their noses together with one of the biggest smiles he’d ever seen on her face before setting the little one down to talk to Mia.

Cullen could feel the prickle of tears in his eyes, threatening to break free in front of the men in his command. He sniffled once, widened his eyes, and blinked the little bastards back with the sheer force of his will, turning back toward Alden to prevent them from returning at the sight of his love. If he’d had even the smallest doubt that he wanted to have children with Halise, it was banished from his mind faster than he could think it. Watching her with Dawn—watching her with his whole family—made him want to crumble with relief and burst with pride all at once.

In the week before the wedding, Cullen knew his family would soon leave to return home. With the influx of snide nobles for the event, the thought ate away at him perhaps more than it otherwise might have. He and Halise were going through a final tasting of their planned banquet menu when she said something that eased his mind.

After humming with delight and bobbing her head from side to side at mouthful of cheesy potatoes, she offhandedly mused, “I wonder if the cook would give me the recipe for these so I can make them for Mia and Rosalie and Dawn and the boys when we visit their farm. Do you think he would?” She peered up at him with her brows raised and the question in her eyes, completely unassuming and unaware of the worry she’d just assuaged.

Without a word of warning, Cullen wrapped her in a tight embrace. A little laugh rose from her chest. “I can make them here, too, if you like them that much!”

He maneuvered away just enough to kiss her, the taste of the food still lingering on her lips. Holding her head in his hands, he pulled away to look at her. “Maker’s breath, Halise,” he murmured. “I love you so, so much. You can’t possibly understand how happy you’ve made me.”

“It’s just potatoes,” she grinned. “But I love you very much. And I can understand, because you’ve made me just as happy.” Halise’s light fingertips brushed from his temple to his jaw, and she leaned in to kiss him again.

The chef, who’d apparently just returned from the kitchen, cleared his throat. Cullen just waved him off and kept kissing his betrothed. The world could wait for them. For once, the world could wait.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love exploding my own heart... Favorite pastime. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding time!!! Also, I reference a song I had in mind in this chapter, which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDTApv0Dbko)!
> 
> Double also, this is the only chapter with shifting perspectives, so the first part is from Halise's, and the second is from Cullen's!
> 
> Triple also, I'm going to include some reference photos below.

“Halise, it’s time to wake up.” Leliana’s voice seeped into the tail end of Halise’s dream before she repeated herself, waking the bride-to-be.

Halise opened her eyes slowly and blearily. She most assertedly had not gotten enough sleep. It was Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra’s fault—and a little bit Mia’s and Rosalie’s, too. Really, every woman in Skyhold with the exception of Sera was to blame for Halise’s exhaustion. Actually, Sera may have been even more blameworthy than anyone.

Everyone told Cullen and Halise that they had to sleep separately the night before the wedding, and Sera happened upon Halise on the battlements after dinner, pouting and staring at Cullen’s tower. “Right, why are you all droopy and broody?” Sera asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Everyone keeps telling me that Cullen and I can’t stay together tonight. Something about tradition and…I don’t know, superstition? Stupid,” Halise muttered.

Sera dropped her arms to her sides in a gesture of exasperation. “So don’t ‘stay’ together! Sneak back into bed before morning so they don’t know,” she replied plaintively. “Whyzit I’m always figuring out answers to the easy stuff? You and your Cully-Wully belong together!” The last bit came out more like a scoff than a compliment.

Halise, acting purely on emotion, listened to the rather unsound advice without thinking through the repercussions it would have on the following day, and now she was terribly tired. With complete disregard for Halise’s weariness, Leliana, Josephine, Mia, Rosalie, and Dorian hauled her out of bed to begin preparing her for the wedding. Mercifully, none of them tried to accompany her into the washroom while she bathed, though she could hear them bustling about and chatting—right up until she fell asleep in the bathtub.

She woke again to the sensation of a tiny poke on the tip of her nose. Before she could open her eyes, another tiny poke, from a tiny finger. “Auntie Hali,” Dawn’s little voice almost whispered, drawing up a smile over Halise’s lips, “Momma told me to get you. She said to say, ‘Get up!!!’” Dawn’s ordinarily sing-song voice got very loud and shrill without warning, sending Halise springing up from her relaxed position leaning on the edge of the tub. Water sloshed over the side of the tub, almost drowning out the sound of laughter from Halise’s bedroom. Almost.

“I’m up, you pack of hyenas!” Halise shouted as she stood and wrapped herself in a towel. Her wet hair clung to her back and chest when she stepped out to the tittering group with Dawn in tow. “You’re all so mean! Sending the little one in to do your dirty work. Cowards, the lot of you!” Halise said without bite.

“We thought we should preserve your modesty,” Dorian smirked. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

“Don’t you act like you haven’t seen all of this,” Halise retorted, gesturing wildly over her body and drawing up a snicker from the mage. He stepped over to her, and she felt the little ripples of magic around her as he summoned heat to speed the drying of her hair.

Halise hummed at the pleasant warmth emanating from Dorian’s hands. “Where was this magic when we were all soaked and sad in Crestwood, hmm?”

“Why do you think I learned it? One tends to try and avoid suffering such awful sensations more than once.”

Halise chuckled a bit, inhaling a deep breath to try and rouse herself fully. Everyone else was already in their finery, for once not forced to wear Inquisition uniforms for the sake of formality. Josephine wore a lovely golden gown, and Leliana wore one of a similar design in purple. The women were nothing if not consistent with their signature colors. Dorian’s formal robes were very dark green—almost black—with golden accents. Mia and Rosalie’s gowns were much more Ferelden, less voluminous, but no less pretty. Rosalie’s was blush pink, and Mia’s was a very pale blue.

“We thought we would wait to put Dawn in her dress so she didn’t get it dirty,” Mia said, as if reading Halise’s thoughts as she scooped the little girl up off the ground. Dawn’s teeny gown was ivory, to match Halise’s, and she had no doubt that her soon-to-be niece would, indeed, have found some way to get the garment dirty, even locked in the room with all of them.

It wasn’t long before they all had Halise seated in a chair, everyone buzzing about her and touching some part of her. Josephine and Leliana excused themselves after a scout knocked on the door to Halise’s quarters. Undoubtedly, the nobility was being escorted into the garden for the ceremony. Halise cringed for a moment when she thought about them trampling her flowers and herbs, though Josephine had ensured her they would all be moved safely away before the day began.

Mia and Rosalie went to work weaving flowers into Halise’s curls while Dorian applied kohl to her eyes. “Are you sure I should wear this?” she asked him, trying not to blink while he smudged it directly under her eyes. “It’s a bit dark.”

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, my darling,” he said nonchalantly, leaving his mouth hanging open as he drew on a bit more. “I’m not putting much on you, and it will make your eyes glow almost as much as that mark on your hand.” Halise resisted the urge to look down at her marked left hand. “Cullen won’t be able to tear his eyes from you. Well…more than usual,” Dorian laughed.

When he was done applying the kohl to her eyes, he used the tip of his finger to dab something that smelled like honey onto her lips. “Not quite as bold as what you wore to the Winter Palace, but much more your shade,” he mused before telling her to press her lips together.

“Tell me how you know more about this than I do,” Halise very nearly demanded with a little smirk.

“Aside from the fact that you’re a little savage from the woods?” Dorian winked when he said it, and Halise heard a little giggle from Rosalie behind her. “I ran in many circles in Tevinter. Some of them were much more…permissive than most of you southerners. I imagine I know more than you do about a great many things.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, his tone salacious.

“I’m sure you do,” Halise chuckled.

Dawn had been running and skipping around the room, playing with things for the better part of an hour before Mia finally let her put on her dress. Once the gown was on her, Dawn ran her hands down the fluffy length of it in absolute awe of the feeling of the airy fabrics. “You look so pretty!” Halise cooed at her.

“Almost as pretty as you,” Mia chimed from across the room, Halise’s dress in hand. At the sight, Halise’s stomach filled with butterflies.

They helped her into the dress, carefully pulling it over her head so as not to muss any of the flowers they had so expertly woven in. There were only three small clasps to be fastened, and just like that, Halise was dressed and ready for her wedding. She looked at herself in the mirror, and all at once tears filled her eyes. Her stomach dropped and she heaved in a big breath.

Mia came to her rescue with s small handkerchief. She held it under Halise’s eyes, catching the little tears before they could ruin Dorian’s hard work. “Why am I so nervous all of a sudden?” Halise asked, plaintive tone almost lost under her teariness.

“It’s completely normal to feel this way,” Mia soothed. “I threw up before I married Marcus, and I’d already loved him for almost four years before our wedding! Incidentally, if you feel like you’re going to throw up, warn me first, so I can get out of your way.”

A sobbing sort of laugh came out of Halise’s nose. She was trying to compose herself when she felt Dawn tug at the back of her dress. “Don’t cry Auntie Hali. You’re very pretty, just like me! So don’t cry, okay?”

Halise giggled at that. Her tears were already subsiding as she turned and lowered herself to Dawn’s level. “Thank you very much, sweetheart,” she murmured, touching their foreheads together. “See? All better!”

They all traveled downstairs together, Rosalie dutifully holding up the back of Halise’s dress to stop her from tripping. Halise had never seen the main hall so empty as it was that day. Certainly, there were dozens of banquet tables and a large dance floor, but no people. Dorian, Mia, and Rosalie took their leave of Halise then, with only Dawn staying behind with her tiny hand grasping Halise’s, and she let the momentary silence settle over her. They’d retrieved Halise’s small bouquet—made up of all the different blue flowers Cullen had been so loathe to choose from—and a little basket of petals for Dawn. Halise huffed out a breath before they walked out into the garden.

It was magnificent. Every pillar had been covered in flowers in every color of the rainbow. The sun shone down through dappled clouds, covering the grounds in a soft glow. The trees were green and lush, adding to the vibrancy of the space. She hardly noticed the flock of nobility from all over Thedas, too distracted by the natural beauty that had blessed the space. She would have to remember to thank Josephine properly for seeing to the preparations so meticulously.

Then she saw him. As Dawn let go to begin her long walk down the aisle, tossing little handfuls of petals along the way, Halise could only see Cullen. The world narrowed around her vision until it was only him. He was so handsome, his face so filled with love. He wore a very well-tailored suit. The cut was not so dissimilar from what he’d worn to the Winter Palace, but the flared shoulders were absent, the jacket was white with gold detailing, and a midnight blue sash draped over his shoulder and wrapped around his waist. Over the sash was a dark brown belt with an ornate gold buckle. He had no gloves on his hands, though they were clasped behind his back when she first saw him. Drawn to him—to her love—she began her walk toward him.

*****

Halise was beautiful. Stunning. Arresting. Cullen’s breath stilled in his chest at the very sight of her. Tiny sky blue flowers were woven through her long red tresses, appearing almost as if they grew there—as if the fiery waves and curls were their natural home. Her smiling green eyes sparkled, almost glowing from under her dark lashes. Her plush, dusky pink lips spread into a wide beaming smile, stretching the vallaslin on her chin. Her dress was the embodiment of her spirit. It was made up of layers of flowing gossamer, narrowing to fit her form from her waist to her bosom. Little white lace flowers rested at the top of the gown, which looked to be held up only by four straw-thin straps. Her strong, supple shoulders and arms, along with a swath of her chest and cleavage, were bare, little scars and all on proud display for all the world as she approached him. Her shoulders were drawn back, posture more regal than he had ever seen, and she moved with the extraordinary grace and delicacy befitting only her.

Dawn reached him first, only a few steps ahead of Halise. She beckoned him down to her level, and he tore his eyes from Halise just long enough to crouch to his little niece. “Be nice to her, okay, Uncle Cullen?” she murmured into his ear. “She was crying before.” If there hadn’t already been a smile on his face, there certainly was then.

“Alright,” he whispered, “I will. I promise.” Dawn nodded, apparently satisfied with his assurance, and bounded over to Mia.

He stood just as Halise reached him. He held out his hand to her, and she took it, grasping at him as if reaching for a lifeline. She clung to him tightly, and he squeezed her fingers in wordless reply. Rosalie dipped behind her for a moment to take away the bouquet, and Halise immediately grabbed Cullen’s other hand. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly in his, so he ran his thumbs over her knuckles to calm her.

Cullen was almost startled when Mother Giselle spoke to begin the ceremony. He also didn’t pay much attention to what she said. Most of the beginning of the ceremony was prerequisite—a reading from the Chant, some nonsense about the sanctity of marriage that, if not already contemplated, would only make someone wonder why they wanted to get married in the first place. Cullen was too enrapt with Halise’s teary smile and mesmerizing eyes. His heart swelled, the simple sight of her enough to lull him into a state of warmth and wellbeing.

When they got to the vows, Halise went first. A tiny tear trickled down her cheek, and Cullen brushed it away gently with his thumb. “"Sylaise enaste var aravel. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris," she murmured. “I swear to love this man for the rest of my days.” Her voice was louder for the second part. They’d discussed that she would say her Dalish vows softly, and a modified version of the Andrastian vows for the sake of the smug nobility.

“And you,” Mother Giselle prompted Cullen.

“I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this woman for the rest of my days,” he said. Then he whispered, “Just know, everything feels like it was worth fighting for.”

Another tear slipped down her cheek as her smile grew. “It was. Cullen, it was.”

“And now, you may kiss your bride and seal your union before these witnesses, the Maker, and the Holy Andraste.” Mother Giselle seemed genuinely happy to say those words.

Not as happy as Cullen was to hear them. He wrapped his arms around Halise, briefly surprised at how much of her skin he felt bare on her back, and brought her to him for a passionate kiss. Applause may have erupted around them, but he was to enrapt in the feeling of her lips to notice. She tasted of honey. Her hands surrounded his jaw as their lips brushed and pressed against each other. This was the first time he was kissing his wife, and he refused to let it go to waste.

When their lips finally parted, they stayed close for a few moments, gazing into each other’s eyes. He had never loved anyone or anything as much as he loved her. Not even close.

The reception turned out to be a grand party. Without people harassing him over his marital status and touching him in unwanted ways, he was more able to enjoy the evening. Their first dance as husband and wife was to a song that incorporated Ferelden and Elvhen instruments, coming together in a lovely tune. With his hand on the bare skin of her back, they reeled and spun about the dance floor. She threw her head back once, arching her back into a dip requiring very little skill on his part. He pulled her up to him once more, and the dance was over before he knew it. Although part of him wanted to keep whirling her about on the dance floor, he was famished. His stomach had been twisting around itself all day until he saw her.

They sat amongst their friends and family, eating and drinking and reveling in their new marriage and the joy it seemed to bring so many. Most importantly, they reveled in their own joy. Halise settled herself in under his arm, and scarcely moved for the rest of the evening. They were finally allowed to hold each other in public view, and he relished every little kiss and caress, every little shiver he sent down her spine, every heated glance she shot him.

Eventually, the heated glances started to sear into his core. Cullen yearned to take her somewhere private and do terrible things to her in that dress—to feel the light cloth at the back of his neck as he made her cry out. Almost soundlessly, Halise stood, running her finger over the length of his shoulders, before leaning into his ear. The sensation of her breath on the sensitive lobe made him shudder. “I need you,” she purred. It was as though she’d read his mind.

With no further prompting, Cullen leapt to his feet, giving some weak excuse he hardly heard himself say as Halise walked ahead of him. She pulled him only by their intertwined fingers. It was the first time he’d seen her back all evening, and under her hair, he could see that it was almost completely bare, save for two thin straps that crossed between her shoulder blades and two that trailed down near her sides. The thought that she’d been so exposed all day thrilled him. Everyone could see her lithe figure, yet no one could touch her but him. She was his, and he was hers.

Halise tugged him into the garden, glancing around before leading him toward the room that had housed the now shattered eluvian. It was at the far, darkening end of the small courtyard, and if they closed the door, no one would hear them. She walked with purpose, but hopped up onto her toes just once to pluck a little yellow flower off of one of the pillars when she passed it by. She held blossom to her nose, inhaling its scent while they approached their destination.

Unable to wait even another moment, Cullen yanked her hand back toward him, spinning her to face him with a little yelp before they’d reached the small room. Moving his hands up her neck to cup her jaw, he kissed her hard. They continued on their path, lips locked together with Halise backing toward the room under Cullen’s charge. They were stopped short by a wall, and he used the impact as a segue to her throat, pinning her wrists to the stone as he blazed a hot trail past the almost invisible scar she’d gotten at Haven down to her bare shoulder.

“Wait until we get inside,” she panted breathlessly. Cullen growled into her collarbone, releasing just one of her wrists, and tugging her giggling after him with the other.

After an endless walk, they finally reached the glorified closet. Cullen strode through the doorway first, only to find that the room was already occupied by a fervently kissing couple. Propriety overrode Cullen’s desire for a split second. “Oh. I apologize for interrupting,” he said curtly.

Halise, whether in excitement or due to the force with which he’d been pulling her, took a couple of quick steps past him. He saw her hair sway as she cocked her head. “Rosalie?”

The kissing couple quickly parted, and indeed, there was Rosalie and…“Dolan?!” Cullen bellowed his Knight-Captain’s name, sudden rage threatening to overtake his sense. Halise leapt in front of him, putting both her hands on his chest to keep him from moving forward.

“Explain yourself!” he shouted, expecting Dolan to flinch. But he didn’t.

Instead, Dolan held a tearful Rosalie’s hand and stood tall before Cullen. “I-I love her. Ser!” he stammered.

“You what?!” Cullen clenched his fist so hard he thought the flesh would split over his knuckles.

“I love her,” Dolan repeated, more firmly this time.

“Why you—” Cullen made to get close enough to hit him.

“Stop!!!” Halise shouted, pushing Cullen so forcefully it actually knocked him back a step. There was a different sort of heat in her gaze for a moment before it softened into a plaintive look she punctuated with a little huff out of her nose. She turned to Rosalie. “How old are you, Rosalie?”

Rosalie looked confused for a moment. “Twenty-two,” she answered tentatively.

“And you, Dolan?”

“Twenty-three. Just,” Dolan replied.

“Really? You look younger. Never mind.” Halise shook her head a bit before continuing. “Rosalie, do you love him?”

“Yes. With all my heart,” Cullen’s sister said resolutely. Cullen was actually taken aback by Rosalie’s hardened expression when she shot him a look.

“And Dolan, do you really love her? Not lust. Not desire. Love. Do you really love her?”

“With every fiber of my being,” he said. The two of them tightened their grip on each other’s hands.

Halise spun back to look into Cullen’s eyes. “That’s good enough for me. How about you, husband?”

Cullen was stunned. Certainly there was logic in Halise’s reasoning, and Dolan seemed sincere enough. But it was Cullen’s baby sister—and she really had been just a baby when he left to join the Templars. With that in mind, he wondered how much she would even consider his opinion on the matter. She’d grown up without his protection, and managed to keep herself safe and happy without him. He began to think that perhaps he should trust her judgment in this as well.

“Very well,” he almost growled. “But if you hurt her, Dolan, I’ll break bones in your body you didn’t even know you had.”

“Really?!” Rosalie squealed. She darted past Halise and jumped up to wrap Cullen in a warm embrace he wasn’t entirely certain he deserved. But he hugged her back, watching a smile slide up Halise’s lips over Rosalie’s shoulder.

“I love you, baby sister,” he murmured into her hair. “All I want is for you to be happy. And Dolan is a good man. He’s saved Halise’s life and mine more than once. I suppose it’s only fair that I trust him with yours.”

Rosalie kissed his cheek before letting him go. Dolan approached him with a hand outstretched, and Cullen grasped his forearm. “I meant what I said, Knight-Captain,” Cullen warned again, less forcefully this time.

“Understood, Ser. I wouldn’t hurt her. I couldn’t.” Sincerity flooded Dolan’s voice as he spoke, and Cullen was inclined to believe him. After all, he’d heard himself speak the same way about Halise.

She crept up to him after Dolan returned to Rosalie, and snaked her arm under Cullen’s to lace their fingers together. They left the room quietly, though Halise surprised him right outside the door by standing on her toes and putting her lips against his ear again. “Your wife’s needs still require satisfying, Cullen,” she murmured, “And there’s an empty tower up those stairs.” She ran her tongue feather light over his earlobe.

He whipped his head around to face her, smirking as he replied, “Oh dear. We must address that post haste.” Before she could reply, he swept her legs out from under her and started his march up the stone steps. He couldn’t very well start shirking his duties as a husband on their first day of marriage, now could he?

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyyyy!!! <3 <3 <3
> 
> The song I was thinking of is Lisa Germano's "On the Way Down from the Moon Palace," which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDTApv0Dbko) if you'd like. 
> 
> Legit, I spent the better part of a day wedding dress shopping online for Halise. This is what I imagine her dress would look like.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time jump!

“Stop…” Halise groaned, playfully slapping Cullen’s wandering hand from her side where he was sliding up her nightshirt. “It’s so eaaarrrly and I’m so tiiiiired,” she pouted.

“Blame Divine Victoria,” Cullen murmured into her ear. He nipped at it gently, sending a shiver through Halise’s nearly naked body. “She’s the one who called the Exalted Council.”

Halise felt her husband’s fingers walking past her waist and down over her hip before he dragged her flush against him. The firm, rippling texture of his well-toned stomach against her back sent heat straight to her loins, and she suppressed a moan when he gently slid her hair away from the back of her neck to drag his teeth along her spine. She struggled in the face of her desire to feel his morning stiffness within her instead of pressing at her backside. There were things to do.

“Besides,” Cullen continued, skimming across the surface of her stomach with his fingertips and drawing a slow circle around her belly button, “you’ve slept in every morning for weeks. I think I deserve some of my wife’s attention this morning before the torturous socialization and public scrutiny begins.” His calloused hand inched ever closer to her sex.

Her eyes rolled back in her head for a split second before she came to her senses again, very nearly ripping herself away from him and hopping out of bed. Cullen’s arm dragged after her. He dropped his face into her pillow and growled at the loss of contact.

“You’re right.” Halise attempted to steady herself. Her fingers instinctively brushed over her brow, a miniscule sort of shame creeping through her at her avoidance of his tender ministrations. “I’ve been sleeping in too much lately. I bet it’s because my name day was last month and I’m officially old.” She’d just turned 31.

Cullen’s head whipped to face her, his body still face down on the bed. A bemused expression had settled over him. “You’re the same age I was when we got married,” he chuckled.

“Right! I married an old man, and I’ve officially joined you in your oldness. We may now grow fat and tired together,” she decreed, raising her chin and looking down her nose at him with a smirk. “So sayeth the Inquisitor.”

Her stomach lurched a bit when she said her title, even as Cullen chuckled and buried his face in the sheets once more. She’d spent the entire month since her name day preparing for the Exalted Council, the aim of which seemed to be to dismantle the Inquisition. It had been a little over two years since Corypheus had been defeated, and much of the activity requiring her attentions and aid had dwindled since then. Halise and Cullen had discharged a good sum of the Inquisition’s troops, sending them home to their families with knightly titles and well-funded severances and pensions. Josephine had continued as the ambassador for the Inquisition, though her work as head of household drew her back to Antiva more and more with each passing season. Leliana had assumed her place as Divine Victoria, and though she largely maintained her intelligence network on behalf of herself and the Inquisition, pressure had begun to mount on her to discontinue the Chantry’s support for the organization.

By and large, Halise’s friends still called Skyhold home, though they, too, were flung far afield more and more. Dorian had spent the past several months in Tevinter, and the letters between him and Halise, while numerous, didn’t fill the void he left in his place, and she’d cried more than once at the temporary loss of his closely held company and counsel. Sera and Dagna would go away for a week or two at a time to deal with Red Jenny business, which Halise had begun to participate in, much to Cullen’s uniquely chagrined amusement. Thom Rainier had begun to use his real name again, travelling all over Thedas to make amends to any of the men formerly in his company that he could find. Vivienne had mostly returned to her duties with the Orlesian Imperial Court, working with the new college of enchanters to try and reunite the mages into some semblance of a cohesive organization. Cole and Iron Bull largely stayed at Skyhold, the former having taken up with the bard, Maryden. Bull helped Halise stabilize a few regions, and actually accompanied her and Cullen on their first visit to South Reach to aid in killing some remnants of the Red Templars and closing a few rifts. He’d also been up near the Tevinter border for the past month, tearing Dorian away from his work and family over and over…and over again. Cassandra’s work rebuilding the Seekers was going well, and she was off to a good start with an ever-growing collection of loyal Seekers and some former Templars wishing to join her order. Varric had left about a year ago, and was named Viscount of Kirkwall. He frequently sent exotic goods and merchants the Inquisition’s way, and wrote often, but Halise missed hearing him call her “Torch” all the time. Solas was…still missing.

A little wave of nausea came over Halise in the moment that she’d been standing by the bed, looking down at her beloved husband. Thoughts of loss of family and her home if the Inquisition was disbanded had been wearing away at her since Leliana had written to forewarn of the call for the Exalted Council. Her friends were already becoming more distant, and she dreaded what disbanding the Inquisition would mean for their relationships. With no more Skyhold to return to, would they even want to come back to her? And where would she and Cullen go? South Reach was the most probable option, and Halise’s favorite, given her love for his family. But that also put most of the continent between her and her father, Revassan, who still lived in the Free Marches near Wycome. He’d actually managed to visit her once at Skyhold within the past year, but if she moved all the way to South Reach, it would effectively cut them off from one another unless Halise and Cullen made the long journey north.

Cullen’s muffled groan from the bed stirred Halise from her spiraling thoughts. She tried to smile again, crawling back on the bed just enough to smack Cullen’s bare ass and elicit a little yelp from him as she chirped, “Now, get up! We have an Exalted Council to pander to!”

The morning session of the Council was horribly tedious. Arl Teagan Guerrin argued over and over for the disassembly of the Inquisition, while Duke Cyril de Montfort wanted the Inquisition to come under the banner and control of Orlais. Neither was even remotely interested in the opposition’s arguments, nor did they appear to pay any heed to statements proffered by those willing to testify as to the Inquisition’s influence or any remaining need for the organization. Josephine sat next to Halise, playing diplomat as best she could with the unmoving Council. Divine Leliana—Halise liked calling her that in their letters—sat stoically between the bickering, obstinate men, trying as hard as she could not to roll her eyes from what Halise could tell. The session was adjourned abruptly after Leliana turned her ear to one of her messengers and called for a recess of sorts.

Halise let a labored sigh escape her chest as she left the Council’s chambers, another wave of nausea turning her stomach and prickling the back of her throat when she thought about everything that was going on inside. Her mark also seemed to ache more than a bit unusually. She wanted her husband.

She wandered the courtyard for several minutes before finally finding him crouched on the ground and rubbing the belly of a giant gray mabari. Her eyes went wide, a grin spreading over her mouth at the sight. Cullen thumped the dog’s ribcage a final time before lowering his face toward the mabari’s. “You’re supposed to dodge the ball, not catch it! If that were a fireball you’d be dead!” Despite his somewhat scolding tone, he had a massive smile on his face as the dog whined a little and barked a puff of hot breath at him.

Halise approached them, and the dog leapt to its feet to bound over to her, slamming his side against her legs so hard they almost buckled. She laughed and rubbed his back aggressively. “How in the great wide world did you find a dog in the midst of all this?” she asked incredulously.

“They don’t breed mabari in Orlais, but the merchant I found him with said he was abandoned. Perhaps his owners tired of the novelty,” Cullen’s mused.

She turned her gaze back down to the heavy dog, pursing her lips a bit when she said, “Aw, how could anyone tire of you?! You have such a positive attitude and fantastic fetching ability! Aw, no, no, no, that simply won’t do!” The mabari panted up at her, his big drooling tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

“Well, he’s not supposed to fetch it,” Cullen remarked.

“I’m not entirely sure you get the gist of the game, vhenan,” Halise giggled.

Her husband sighed. “Another Ferelden trapped at the Winter Palace…I couldn’t leave him to that fate.” His voice was tinged with no small amount of disgust until he caught the dog’s gaze again. “Besides, I think he likes me, and he obviously loves you. But who could blame him for that?” All warm sweetness and softness.

“Well, if we’re going to keep him, he has to have a name,” she said firmly. “A fine dog like you deserves a name!”

“I’ve never been terribly good at naming things,” he admitted sheepishly, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck. His nervous habit was so endearing in Halise’s eyes.

The mabari barked up at Halise, striking her with inspiration for a moniker for the sweet dog. “How about Raff?”

Cullen cocked his head at her. His mouth quirked up at the corner, pushing up the scar over his lip. “Why Raff?”

“Because it’s the sound he makes when he’s happy!” Halise grinned.

Cullen huffed a laugh through his nose, his smirk growing into a full beam. “Is that how you intend to name everything?”

“Fully,” she replied all too seriously. “I completely plan on naming our firstborn Giggles. Just think of it! Giggles Rutherford, son of Commander and Inquisitor Rutherford!” She stared off into the distance, waving her arm in a grandiose sweeping motion.

Cullen barked out a laugh. “What a commanding presence he’ll have with a name like that. His enemies will quake with fear at the very utterance.”

He closed the short distance between them, resting his hand on her hip with Raff trapped between their legs. Halise let her eyes drift shut as they leaned toward each other and he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was chaste, nevertheless communicating their love for one another to each other and to anyone in the courtyard who happened to be watching.

Halise’s stomach lurched without warning, ripping her away from Cullen with a thick swallow and a grimace. His amber eyes betrayed his worry while the back of his hand slid across the vallaslin on her forehead. “What’s wrong? Are you unwell?”

The spell passed slowly, and Halise’s stricken eyes softened. “I’ll be fine. I think it’s just the stress of all this. It’s awful—the uncertainty of it all. I just want us to come out the other end of this happy, whatever that means.”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, but stopped short after his eyes seemed to catch someone over Halise’s shoulder. She turned to see the same messenger that had been whispering to Leliana waiting there, gaze trained carefully on the couple.

“Divine Victoria requests your presence at once,” the woman said evenly.

Halise turned from the messenger to her husband, his brief nod of approval all she needed to follow the messenger. The woman led Halise to a small, well-guarded room away from the main courtyard. Leliana waited within, along with the corpse of a Qunari soldier. The dead man’s body was marred by wounds created both by magic and by blade. Blood puddled around him had already begun to coagulate and darken. Leliana’s expression was severe, marking the occasion as one of the few times Halise had seen her spymaster confused and concerned. The two of them wondered aloud together how the Qunari wound up dead in a room in the Winter Palace.

Halise took it upon herself to check with Iron Bull next. “I wish I knew, Boss,” he said. “After I became Tal Vashoth, the secret stuff just sort of stopped.”

“Thanks anyway, Bull,” Halise replied, trying hard to keep the smile on her face while she walked back to the shed. Without more information, all she had was the blood trail. The thought of the soldier having made it as far as he did, all while bleeding out and scared, saddened her, despite the likelihood that his intentions for her had not likely been good. She wasn’t one to appreciate the suffering of others, even her enemies.

The blood trail led up to—surprise!—an active eluvian. Uncharacteristically flippant as to the consequences, Halise just poked her head through, the gelatinous magical membrane prickling up the hairs on the back of her neck. A different view of the crossroads lay beyond. When she’d gone through with Morrigan, everything was hazy and gray—dim and magical. This time, the sun, or something like it, shone down brightly over the slim, rocky pathways, illuminating a series of active and inactive eluvians at varying altitudes.

Halise pulled herself back through to the Winter Palace, that same green sensation pooling in her gut. How much more of this was she expected to endure? Maybe the Inquisition should disband if this was what her life was meant to be in its existence. With a little shake of her head, she headed back out to put on her armor and gather up a few friends. If she was going traipsing after whatever killed that Qunari soldier, she wasn’t going in unarmed and alone.

She hadn’t donned her armor in quite some time, the need for it having all but dried up within the past year, but she still brought it everywhere she went, just in case. Her blue coat seemed to fit a little more snugly around her bosom than she remembered, and the straps of her breastplate stretched with a groan as she fastened them. She hadn’t thought the time away from fighting had made her any heavier. She and Cullen, as well as any of her friends that were around, still sparred regularly. Perhaps her armor just needed to adjust to being worn again after its prolonged storage.

Sera, Dorian, and Bull joined her before the eluvian, stepping through with nearly as much trepidation as she felt, though Bull just seemed excited to hit something again. The air in the crossroads was tense, and Dorian seemed to feel the need to tell her at that moment that he was going back to Tevinter again, for good this time.

“What?! Why?” Halise felt the sting of rapidly rising tears, partially attributable to anger and partially to sorrow.

“My father has been assassinated. At least that’s what I believe. I received word this morning—a perversely cheerful letter congratulating me on assuming his seat in the Magisterium.” His tone was unusually sad for talking about the death of the father with whom he’d had such a tumultuous relationship. “We only met a few times while I was home…He didn’t say anything about keeping me as his heir. I’m told he had me appointed as the Tevinter ambassador for the Exalted Council. He must have wanted me away when the trouble began.”

“I can go with you!” Halise snapped, displeased with the tears trickling down her cheeks. She felt Sera’s hand on her shoulder. “We can help you there.”

“It simply wouldn’t be safe, my darling,” he replied sadly. “For me or for you. Inquisitor or no, Tevinter has never been kind to elves, and I fear what they might do to you—or to Cullen, for that matter—if you were to take my rather controversial side in all of this. Incidentally, my friend, Maevaris, has managed to gather a group of magisters who feel as we do. We will be an actual faction in the Magisterium. Marvelous, isn’t it?” He seemed to perk up with the thought.

Halise’s eyes shot in Iron Bull’s direction. “Did you know about this?”

His head bowed slightly. “Yeah, Boss. He told me this morning. I was with him when he got the letter.” He paused for just a bit too long. “It’ll be alright.”

Halise looked back to Dorian, her lip quivering and tears falling more freely. “I—I’ll miss you so much!” She slammed her body against his, squeezing him into a tight embrace, grateful when he hugged her to him in response. “What am I going to do without you?” she sniffed into his shoulder.

He pushed her away just a bit before digging into a pouch at his side. “That’s what this is for.” He held up a little translucent purple crystal between them, pressing it tenderly into her palm. “It’s a sending crystal. I had to go to the Void and back to get one, but it was worth it. Did you really think I would leave never to be heard from again? If you need me, or if I need you, we can talk anytime through this. Magic!” He held her by her shoulders at arm’s length, dropping his head a bit to meet his steely eyes with hers. “You are my dearest friend, and that will never change, no matter where we are.”

Halise nodded a little, still feeling the pitiful pout stuck to her lips as Dorian pulled her back against him for another hug. A little sniffle came from Sera, who blanched and reeled back when everyone turned to look at her. “What?! I’m gonna miss you too, you frilly bastard! Why’s everyone so surprised?!” Sera smeared her tears across her face with her forearm.

Several minutes passed before everyone’s emotions settled enough to continue. They followed the blood trail through an eluvian, only to find more dead Qunari on the other side. They followed the ongoing trail of blood and bodies, many having been killed by powerful magic that still lingered in the air, only to see several soldiers alive across an impossible gap. As luck would have it, they left an open eluvian behind, allowing Halise and her compatriots to retrieve the key to unlock the bridge. In the course of their journey following closely behind the Qunari, they were learning some earth-shattering things about the Elvhen. Specifically, about Fen’Harel and his status as a liberator of Elvhen slaves. Halise could hardly be surprised by such things anymore. After everything she’d learned before defeating Corypheus, it had become nearly impossible for her to believe anything she’d been taught about her ancestors while growing up.

None of the new knowledge was worse than the other growing problem. Halise’s mark had begun to crackle wildly and painfully, more and more with each time she used it to access parts of the Elvhen ruins. The pain began to seep up her arm, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the mark seemed to be growing. The crack in her hand looked like it was splitting past the heel of her hand by the time they finally caught up to the Qunari.

The soldiers set upon them almost instantly, shouting something about an agent of Fen’Harel. They were defeated easily enough, especially with Bull around. But Halise found orders on one of their bodies talking about an infiltration of Halamshiral. Letter in hand, they swiftly made their return to the first eluvian and back out to the palace. Halise took Leliana aside for the briefest moment to tell her about the plot and ask her to notify the Exalted Council before running headlong back after the Qunari.

The second group she followed had traveled through an eluvian that led to somewhere in the Deep Roads. Halise would recognize the landscape anywhere after her time underground two years prior. In this second excursion, the group encountered many more Qunari, as well as many more hidden secrets about the Elvhen. Somehow, it seemed that elves had been in the Deep Roads long before dwarves. Confusing revelation after confusing revelation rolled through Halise’s tired body. Not long ago, she wouldn’t even have batted an eyelash at the amount of combat she’d been through by then, but in those few calm moments in the Deep Roads, she was exhausted. Tired to her bones, mark still aching and crackling all the while.

Worse still, they found another missive about something the Qunari were calling “Dragon’s Breath.” It was meant to be some kind of attack, but it seemed the note was intentionally vague. Given the amount of gatlock they found and detonated in the Deep Roads, however, Halise’s suspicion was that “Dragon’s Breath” was a metaphor. Iron Bull couldn’t really opine on the subject, given his lack of “secret stuff.” In detonating the massive amounts of gatlock, they accidentally flooded that section of the Deep Roads, and were forced to outrun the quickly rising water and flee the area.

Almost immediately upon their return to the Winter Palace, Halise was confronted by the Divine and the two other members of the Exalted Council. Apparently, Josephine was having more trouble keeping them at bay than Halise had been led to believe. The two men yelled at Halise because an Inquisition guard had “attacked” one of the palace servants. When Halise went to sort things out, she immediately recognized the container being transported by the servant—who claimed to be bringing wine to the guests—as a gatlock barrel. She had the servant taken into custody before silently beckoning Leliana to join her on the opposite side of the courtyard with Cullen and Josie.

Cullen’s worried gaze was cast toward her, even as he scoffed at the idea that the Exalted Council would disband the Inquisition after they saved the world yet again. While Halise and Leliana discussed their agreed opinions of the meaning of “Dragon’s Breath,” Cullen crossed over to Halise, putting a protective hand on the small of her back. Creators, how she just wanted to fall asleep against him. His eyes roamed over her critically, examining her for wounds. He was apparently satisfied until he saw her hand. The mark had split up to her wrist by then, and the moment she and Leliana finished strategizing their next move, Cullen broke Halise away from the two women and grabbed her hand up in his.

Panic etched itself into his features as he held her cracked appendage up to his autumnal eyes. The widening mark sent a green glow over his golden-pale skin. “What happened? Why is _this_ happening?!”

Halise’s heart squeezed hard in her chest. He’d become so afraid for her so quickly. And how was she to calm his rapidly fraying nerves when she was terrified, too? She was always honest with him, even if it meant worrying him more. “I don’t know,” she answered softly. “It gets worse every time I have to deal with Elvhen magic. But it’s the only way I’ve been able to keep up with the Qunari this long.”

Cullen shook his head firmly. “There has to be another way! Maker’s breath, Halise, you can’t keep using the mark if it’s doing this! What if this kills you?!” His whispered shouts were becoming less and less like whispers with each word.

“Shhh,” she soothed softly, bringing her other hand up to caress his face. “We’ll try and find another way, but if there isn’t one, I can’t just let everyone die, now can I?” Halise smiled at him, but it came to her lips sadder than she’d hoped. In that moment, she couldn’t muster much more than that.

Cullen dropped her marked hand—arm now, really—and gathered her up into his arms. “How have we wound up here, again?” he murmured into her hair, pain edging the timbre of his low voice. “You, thrown into danger and me, powerless to help you. Why can I never help you?!”

Halise felt the pace of his breath speed against her neck, marking the angry fear that overtook him then. She didn’t have an answer. Not a smart of funny one. Not an insightful one. Nothing. All she could do was to run her fingers across his neck and back and try not to cry.

Cullen kissed her hard before he released her, his desperation for her life evident in the fervor with which his lips moved against hers despite the public setting. “I love you” was uttered more than once by both of them as they stood with their eyes closed and foreheads touching. When she walked away to enter the eluvian again, all of her focus was poured into keeping her tears at bay as she removed her wedding ring and put it on her unmarked hand.

The sun was preparing to set when Halise, Bull, Sera, and Dorian entered what looked to be a massive library, destroyed by some unknown force and rended skyward. Little islands covered in bookshelves floated in every direction and orientation, including upside down. Floating spirits calling themselves “Ghil-Dirthalen” were likewise scattered about, every one of them turbulently tortured by its lack of connection to the others coupled with the final haunting words of the Elvhen in their positions when the Veil was created. By Fen’Harel. More and more, Halise’s faith was worn away and her mark grew. It was as if the two events were inexorably intertwined, though Halise was fairly certain they weren’t.

Upon reaching the inverted center of the library, Halise was finally confronted by the leader of her Qunari attackers, the Viddasala. The massive woman accused the Inquisition of being comprised of agents of Fen’Harel, and ordered a group of her men to try to kill Halise before simply leaving through another eluvian. The Qunari soldiers attacked without fear or hesitation.

Halise’s body was wracked by then. The pain in her arm was agonizing, and her mind was exhausted by the influx of information she’d been required to digest in this never-ending day. It had all started less than innocuously, but worsened so severely, so quickly, it was mind boggling. Even so, Halise fought alongside her friends. Only once, when her mark flared and sent pain flying through her body, was she caught off guard and struck in the stomach by a shock trooper’s massive maul. The hit sent her flying, and fortunately Dorian and Bull intervened, lighting the Qunari ablaze and crushing his skull, before he could reach Halise’s crumpled body. With the fight ended, her persistent nausea, likely aggravated by the strike to her gut, ultimately got the better of her. She vomited on the ground in several large heaves, Dorian holding her hair away from her face as sweetly as he had only days after they’d first met more than three years ago.

They all returned, resolved to rest for the night before attacking the Viddasala head on in the morning. When they came back, Halise learned that the spies bringing in the gatlock and feeding information to the Qunari had come from within the Inquisition. The news shot through her body, forcing her to doubt yet again whether the Inquisition should continue in the wake of the Exalted Council. Afterward, Halise’s mark flared rather publically, sending her to the ground, wailing in agony, and alerting Josephine and Leliana, as well as the rest of Halise’s friends, to the worsening condition. Cullen rushed to her side, lifting her from the ground to carry her directly to their quarters.

In the middle of the night, Cullen’s eyes clenched tightly and he murmured in his sleep. Halise wove her fingers into his hair, whispering her soothing chants into his ear until his body stilled. She had yet to fall asleep, and in spite of her obvious fatigue, couldn’t seem to rest. So she resolved to walk until her eyes were weary enough to close.

On her way out to a nearby balcony, two elves dressed in servants’ clothes spoke in hushed whispers in the hallway. “Why did Lady Ferrand call for me at this hour?”

“Her monthly bleeding is hitting her hard tonight. She says the cramps are unbearable and you’re the only one who knows how to calm them.”

Halise thought for a moment that she could relate. The cramps she’d suffered for years would inevitably be awful at least once every few months. Wait. _When was the last time?_

She pushed her tired mind to its furthest reaches in her attempt to remember when her last cycle had happened. Nothing came to mind for something like three months. Even rooting around from week to week, there was nothing. Three months.

Halise hadn’t realized she reached the balcony until the cool night air hit her face. She brought her hand up to her mouth. She and Cullen hadn’t really been trying, though neither had they not been. They had become more lax in their routine to prevent pregnancy in recent months with the knowledge that, even while actively attempting to conceive, it usually took years for humans with Elvhen partners to reach a viable pregnancy. But it had already been three months. Three months.

Silent tears began to slip from her eyes as she stared at the two moons high over the palace. First, she was excited at the prospect, then scared at the uncertainty. But all at once, she recalled the crushing blow she’d taken only hours before. Right to her womb. A panicked cry flew from her throat before she could stop it, her new terror crumbling her to her knees with deep sobs and tears now pouring out of her eyes.

“She’s alright.” A soft voice behind her startled her, sending her head and torso spinning to see who it belonged to. Cole stood there, pale skin and eyes almost glowing in the moonlight. Even after years of being more human, it seemed he still didn’t sleep much.

“What?” Halise barely squeaked out through the fingers still covering her lips.

“She is alright. Will be alright. Too small to hear much, but her heartbeat sings loud in your mind. Bright like you,” he murmured, stepping over to her slowly before crouching and resting a hand low on her belly. “Yes. Loud and bright.”

“She—” Halise’s voice cracked. “It’s a she? It’s okay and it’s a she?”

Cole didn’t say anything. He simply slid his arms around Halise’s back, holding her close to him. “This helps. Hugs help. Maryden told me.”

Halise sobbed and laughed, returning the light embrace with more zeal than Cole likely expected and letting her worries melt away if only for the briefest moment. “Yes, Cole! Hugs help! They help so much!”

_She._

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffsnotes version of some of these events, but there were so many important things!!! I hope everyone is still enjoying! There are a few chapters to go (in my head anyway), but we are approaching the end of this tale. If you want to read the prologue to the next work I've already started so you can get pumped for that, clickety clack [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7992643).
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	48. Chapter 48

“Stop!” Cullen roared at a group of nobles he’d heard whispering falsehoods about the Inquisitor—his Inquisitor—his wife. “I can’t listen to another lie from your venomous mouths! Not while she’s out there risking her life for you, _again_!”

A twisted sort of satisfaction coursed through him at the group’s unanimous recoil and shocked expressions. _Fuck them,_ he thought. Cullen never had been one for the same volume of creative cursing as Halise, but he wanted so badly to take a page from his wife’s book while she was out battling to save these abominable people. She fought for them, even though they hated her and chastised her. She fought for them because it was the right thing to do.

There was so little for him to do while she was gone. Cullen tried to watch Josephine’s dealings with the Exalted Council, but the worthless exchanges between the parties served only to infuriate him further. He tried to remain in their quarters to read reports, but he couldn’t focus on the words before him, and his hands and body fidgeted instead of cooperating. He became claustrophobic indoors, feeling panic seep into him. So, he and Raff ventured outside, pacing the gardens and making contact with as many of the Inquisition’s forces as possible.

At some point in his wanderings, he and Rainier decided to throw daggers at the only practice dummy in the courtyards, possibly in the entire Winter Palace, if the training of some of the chevaliers he’d seen was any indication. Cullen tried to picture what was making him so angry on the face of the dummy, as he had done with Samson, Corypheus, and countless other enemies that had threatened his wife. But this time, he had no face at which to direct his fury. Just a burlap sack in the weak shape of a person. He hurled dagger after dagger at the wood and cloth mass, each one singing with a little _thunk_ and ring as it hit its mark, and each one failing to assuage his rage and guilt. He walked over to the dummy to remove his daggers and throw again so many times he lost count, but nothing helped.

Why had the Maker seen fit to grant him with the most phenomenal, selfless, intelligent, loving, and beautiful woman in the world, only to throw her into the path of danger over and over again? Why was Cullen eternally unable to help her like he felt he should? Why had the Maker made him powerless after Cullen devoted so much of his life in his service? What justice was there in punishing his wife for his own misdeeds?

Cullen was left with too many questions he couldn’t answer. He only wanted Halise to be safe. He just wanted to be able to keep her safe. He’d begun to wonder, as he knew she had, whether the Inquisition truly should be disbanded, despite the vigor with which he’d argued that it shouldn’t. They’d been safe and comfortable when the dust had settled. It had become obvious, however, that Thedas was not keen on being a calm place. More war and tumult came every few years. It had for Cullen’s entire life. Was it really fair to ask Halise to continue to face it head on?

Then there was her mark. What he saw the previous day was both horrifying and infuriating. The once comparatively small glowing crack in her palm now sundered her flesh as it tore up her arm, crackling to her unbearable pain. Before they’d fallen asleep last night, it had expanded well past her wrist, and this morning, when he kissed her goodbye and told her he loved her, it had crept halfway up her forearm. Was the mark that brought them together going to be the same thing that ripped her from him? Was it killing her?

Cullen sat on a marble bench near the balcony that led into the eluvian. Raff lay quietly beside him with his head in Cullen’s lap. One of Cullen’s hands trailed over the mabari’s head absently, while the other cradled his own forehead, shielding his pensive and petrified expression from the prying eyes of those who would use his and Halise’s pain to their advantage.

All at once, a great commotion clamored forth from the room containing the eluvian. Raff’s ears and head perked up, as did Cullen’s. The two of them leapt up, racing for the door. They’d almost gotten there when Sera burst through, her enraged and panicked countenance immediately sending identical emotions rushing into Cullen’s blood. She regarded him only for a split second, pushing past him and shouting, “I’m getting the healers!” as she ran toward the main part of the palace.

Cullen’s eyes followed her briefly before turning to see Dorian’s back. The mage ran backwards, magic rippling the air around them with that sickly sweet ozone scent, casting a brilliant blue glow from his hands. Dorian’s face was turned toward Iron Bull, whose visage was set in a sort of frightened determination. Only when Bull’s single eye cast downward did Cullen see her.

Halise lay limply in Bull’s giant hands, her beautiful viridescent eyes fluttering as she struggled to remain conscious. Cullen could swear that he heard his heart stop in that moment. He moved aside just long enough for Bull to reach him, immediately walking alongside the hulking Qunari and across from where Dorian was surging magic into Halise’s....arm?

Where was her arm? Everything past her elbow was missing. Her rich blue coat was singed just above the joint, exposing only a scalded, barely bleeding stump. The flesh was pink and red and raw, almost shimmering under the blue glow of what Cullen could only assume was Dorian’s healing magic. Cullen’s gut went cold at the sight. A thousand emotions burst through his heart and mind in a torrent, not the least of which was blind rage. Blind because he had no idea who or what had done this to her. Blind because his wrath reached out toward all the world. Blind because he loved her—needed her—so much that nothing else mattered. The world could burn around them for all he cared.

Cullen put one hand under her head give her neck some support, and the other along her cheek. He stared down into her flickering eyes, and for a tiny moment saw her recognize him. “Halise,” he murmured, everything in him held together by only the barest thread.

“Cullen.” His name came languidly and slurred from between her lips. “Solas…Fen’Harel is…took my mark. Don’t…Don’t let me die…” With that, her eyes closed fully as she completely lost consciousness.

Cullen hadn’t even realized they’d reached the healer’s room by then. He held onto her head gently as Bull set her down on the bed, moving swiftly to her side immediately upon the Qunari’s absence. Clutching at the hand she had left, he watched Dorian step aside for the healer, who cut off Halise’s sleeve faster than Cullen could blink. The stone-faced woman stared down at Halise’s tender stump for a moment before reaching for a salve.

“Will she live?” Cullen asked in spite of his terror at the answer.

The healer apparently paused too long for Sera. “Say something!!!” the blonde elf all but screamed, tears running unimpeded down her face.

The woman answered while applying the salve to the mutilated flesh of Halise’s elbow. “It doesn’t seem she’s lost much blood. I don’t see any other signs of trauma. The wound even seems to have been cauterized. Aside from the loss of her appendage, she should be fine.”

Cullen felt at once as though he’d fallen into a limpid pool of relief. The sensation flooded over him from head to toe as he let out a sobbing breath—with it escaped much of his anger and fear, flying free like air from a bubble bursting as it met with the water’s surface. He held Halise’s limp right hand to his face, kissing her palm and resting the backs of her fingers against his cheek. He felt the little emerald and sapphire of her ring pressing into his skin, especially grateful then that she’d moved it the day before.

Cullen carried her back to their chambers after the healer finished wrapping the wound, setting her down as gently as he could on the bed. He took great care in removing her boots and armor as she lay still. Refusing to leave her side, he also asked one of the soldiers guarding their room to get a message to Divine Victoria and Josephine to apprise them of what had happened as he’d heard it from Bull.

“Dragon’s Breath” referred to an actual dragon, which Halise set free because she detested killing them unless they harmed people. The Qunari had been soundly defeated, though Solas, who was apparently the Elvhen “god,” Fen’Harel, was the one to kill the Viddasala. And all this happened before Solas told Halise his plans—something about tearing down the Veil, Bull couldn’t be certain because of Halise’s state when he found her—and took the mark from her arm. Without the mark, the parts of her arm it had tainted just disintegrated, leaving her bleeding on the ground. When they found her, Bull thought fast, and had Dorian superheat the end of his maul, then used it to seal her wound. Cullen all but hugged the heaping Qunari out of gratitude after finding out he’d been responsible for saving her life.

Laying by Halise’s side, watching her eyes crease at her tangled, troubled dreams that night, Cullen began to think about what this meant for them. What it meant for the Inquisition. As he ran his hands through her hair to soothe away her nightmares, the way she’d done for him for years, he thought about what their future held. He thought about their children. He thought about their family—real and extended. He thought about Solas’s plans, whatever they were. He couldn’t be certain about any of it. The only thing he was certain of was that he would be by her side through whatever came next.

The first thing that came was that Halise woke in the morning. She smiled up at him as she opened her eyes, but her warm joy quickly ended with the painful realization that she’d lost her arm. Cullen held her as she sobbed, doing his best to comfort and ease her. He pulled her into his lap, encircling her with his body while she wept for more than an hour. He would have done anything to make it better, but knowing that he couldn’t, he just whispered into her ear, enfolding her into as much strength and love as he could provide.

When sobs that had so painfully wracked her tired body eventually ebbed, though her breaths still came punctuated by sharp little hiccups, she began to speak to him from her place against his chest. “It h-has to end, d-doesn’t it?” she murmured.

“What does, my love?” Cullen’s fingers still caressed her back in slow circles.

“The Inquis-sition. We’ve been infiltrated by Mythal-knows how many spies. We-he’ve come as far as we can, and people are just s-scared of us now. Our work isn’t done, but S-Solas knows too much about how we operate—knows too much about m-me, and the politics will just get in the w-way of stopping him. So it has to end, doesn’t it?”

He thought for a moment before speaking. “I know I’ve been advocating for the continuation of the Inquisition, but I think you’re right. Thedas has been taking and taking from you, giving nothing in return for far too long now. If we have been infiltrated, then we need people we can trust around us, and the only way to make sure we have them is to stop taking all comers and choose our people carefully. Ultimately though, it’s your choice, and I will support you no matter what you choose.”

Halise sniffled hard, turning to look at him. “Will you help me put on my uniform? I don’t think I can lace up my boots alone just yet.”

Cullen smiled down at her. “Of course, Halise. Anything.”

Dutifully and delicately, Cullen helped his wife. She insisted in doing as much of the dressing as she could by herself, but he stood on careful guard, waiting for her to ask for his help, which she did only twice. Once, when she asked him to “please put a fucking pin on this sleeve so it doesn’t flap around all over the place and make me look more insane than I already feel with what I’m about to do.” The second time, to lace up her left boot. Her dexterity and adaptiveness were impressive, but then, she’d always been impressive in his eyes.

Before they left to address the Exalted Council, Halise dug through their trunk, pulling out the heavily bound writ that Divine Justinia authored to create the Inquisition. The thing was so big, Halise had trouble holding it in one hand at first. After Cullen helped her get a better grip on the ungainly thing, they marched together to the Council’s chambers.

When they reached the door, Cullen dropped back one step behind Halise as she charged in front of the hearing already in progress. Murmurs followed them down the long aisle, and Cullen heard whispers about Halise’s arm, about her decorum, about her dress. For the first time in years, none of it mattered.

Still several steps from the speaking floor, Halise raised the writ over her head. “You all know what this is?” she bellowed, turning from toe to heel in a little circle to make sure everyone was watching. “This is a writ from Divine Justinia authorizing the formation of the Inquisition! We pledged to close the Breach, find those responsible, and restore order—with or without anyone’s help or approval!”

Cullen admired his wife’s authoritative presence as she turned to the Council to continue. “That’s right, Arl Tegan. It wasn’t a formally authorized treaty that saved Ferelden’s people. And it wasn’t careful diplomacy that ended Orlais’s inane civil war, Duke Cyril. It has never been about the organization! It was about good, courageous people doing what was necessary! Doing what the trepidatious were too fearful to do! What the passive and proud were too weak to do! We have been Thedas’s strength for long enough now. So, if you’ll excuse me, _I_ have a world to save. Again.” Disgust dripped like too much venom from her words.

Halise dropped the heavy writ with a loud _thud_ , turning on her heel to begin marching out. “Effective immediately, the Inquisition is disbanded.”

The words were like a release from chains, collapsing decisively to the floor to a riotous response. Cullen reached out and grabbed Halise’s hand as she approached him, and the two of them left the room with their heads held high in bold defiance of the nobility. Maker, he was so damned proud of her. Knowing that from then on, they were free to live their lives in the way they chose, that he could love her openly and unabashedly, that they could start their family without fear of being thrust into danger again, was truly liberating.

“We have to stop off at Varric’s room before we go back to our quarters,” she said with an almost mischievous glance up at Cullen.

“Why?” He couldn’t help the incredulous smile spreading over his face.

Halise smirked at him. “Because I’m missing an arm, and that bitch, Bianca, owes me a favor.”

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck yeah! I'm pretty sure they had sex after this...just sayin'. XD
> 
> I know it's kind of a short chapter, but the next one probably won't be.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	49. Chapter 49

“Really?!” Halise squealed at Adan. “I really am pregnant?!”

It was a few weeks yet before she and Cullen finished moving to South Reach. He was still a day’s ride away on his way back from inspecting the properties Divine Leliana had granted them when Halise finally had enough time to seek out Adan to confirm what Cole told her at the Winter Palace.

“About 12 weeks, I’d say.” The bearded man smiled—actually smiled—at her. They’d gotten closer over the years with all the times he had to fix her broken bits and sew up openings that shouldn’t have been there. She never failed to bring him everything he needed in spades, and he never failed to stop her from dying. It was amicable, to be sure. He’d also been kind enough to tend her arm when she and Cullen had returned from the Winter Palace.

Halise squealed, leaping off the examination table and throwing her arms—well, arm and a half—around the healer’s neck. Adan chuckled and patted her lightly on the back, his laughter bubbling up stronger when Halise wiggled and sort of jumped up and down against him with a riot of squeaks and chirps. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!”

“Nothing to it,” he replied as she pulled away, beaming wildly at him. “Just telling you what’s in there. Not like I had to make the thing.”

She giggled in response before turning to leave. Realizing she’d almost forgotten one of the important questions she’d meant to ask, she spun back around on the ball of her foot. “Hey, Adan? What are your plans now that the Inquisition is disbanding?” she asked, her head cocked and eyebrows raised.

“Don’t really have any,” he responded as he put away some of his tools. “No place I have to get back to, no one to get back to. So, to answer your question, I’ve no idea.”

Halise squinted at him and scrunched her lips over to the left side of her face. “When Cullen comes back, that may change.” She wagged her finger at him over her shoulder as she walked out again. “I’ll be back!”

“Looking forward to it!” Adan chuckled after her.

Good news in hand, Halise bounded up to her room, feeling the weight of Cullen’s coin and her new locket jangling against her chest as she ran. She couldn’t very well keep the new sending crystal lying around loose, so she’d had Dagna fit it into a locket for her. And she had every intention of using it the moment she reached her room.

Slamming the door behind her and flying up the stairs, Halise leapt onto her bed. Cullen’s side was always made so neatly, but hers was a rumpled mess. She couldn’t seem to convince him that the wrinkles gave the bed character, and he never quite stopped pestering her to make it up. She supposed now, one arm short, she had as good an excuse as any not to do it.

The locket containing the sending crystal was warm on one side from Halise’s skin and covered in ornate little etchings. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d used it. She’d been perfectly content to harass Dorian on his “miserable” ship ride home to Tevinter, as well as a couple of times during his earthbound journey back to Minrathous.

Prying open the locket with her fingernails ever so delicately, she hummed at it to get it to activate at the sound of her voice. It glowed and warmed in her hands, letting her know it was awake, in a sense.

“Doooriaaaan,” she sang into the crystal. “I have to talk to youuuuu!”

The little wait for Dorian’s reply felt like an eternity. “Hello, my darling!” he finally crooned. “It’s only been a couple of days since our last chat. You miss me so much you simply cannot stand to be without me, do you?”

“Yes,” Halise answered simply. “Not having you nearby is the worst, and I hate it. I miss your mustache most of all, though.”

“Understandable.” She could hear the playful smirk playing across his lips. Nearly three years with hardly a day apart had taught them the details of each other’s voices. All the little quirks and tells. They were books, forever open to each other’s favorite pages.

“How are you? How’s Minrathous? Is it all hustle and bustle, bluster and blow like you talked about?” Halise scooched her feet up under her, kneeling at the edge of the bed.

“Plenty of hustle, bustle, and bluster here. But very little blow, I’m afraid. You can tell you-know-who I miss him and hope to see him near the border soon.”

Halise laughed through her nose. “I will. Have you started at the Magisterium yet?”

“Not yet, my dear. I’m afraid there is much more preparation to be done with some of my father’s advisors—not one of whom I trust, incidentally—as well as with Maevaris and the new faction. On the upside, we’ve thought of a name for ourselves.” Dorian’s tone ran the gambit from mild disappointment to agitation to hopefulness.

“Well that’s half the battle done right there!” Halise couldn’t help that she talked with her hands—hand—even when no one was there to see her.

He laughed, and the sound brought a grin to her lips and a tear to her eye. She tried not to sniffle, lest he chide her for missing him so much, and swore silently to herself that she would find ways to see him. “I suppose you’re right!” he replied enthusiastically. “It would be terribly difficult for people to talk about us scandalously without a name.”

“What is it?”

“What is what?”

“The name, you preening shit!” she giggled.

“Tsk tsk tsk. You sound like Sera!” Halise could practically see him wagging his finger at her. He’d probably tap the end of her nose if they were together.

“Fenedhis, Dorian just tell me the name!”

“Oh, fine, if you want to spoil the fun,” he said with mock disappointment. “We’re calling ourselves the Lucerni. It essentially means ‘lights’ in Tevene.”

“How apropos!” Halise had learned a new word in Val Royeaux on the way back from the Exalted Council, and had been overusing it to the irritation of those around her. Cullen found it especially obnoxious given its origin.

“Well, well, well! Our little woodland savage speaks Orlesian now, hm?” He sounded intrigued.

“Nope!” she chirped happily. “I just learned a word and I like how it sounds! I have no plans to start speaking Orlesian any time soon, much to the great relief of my husband.”

“Speaking of our dashing Commander, how is he? Has he returned from South Reach with news of your vast estate?”

Halise snorted. “Well, first off, he’s not a commander anymore. Just Cullen. He should be back tomorrow, actually. And it’s not _that_ much land. Just a few acres on a couple of parcels. Enough to let us start a farm and the Templar relief and rehabilitation home Cullen’s so set on.”

She’d apparently piqued his interest with her choice of words. “Hm? ‘So set on?’ Do you not want to do it?”

“That’s not it at all. I’m actually quite excited about the idea.” She really was. “I think it’s a good way to keep doing good for people now that I’ve exploded the Inquisition.”

“As long as you’re alright with it,” he replied carefully, as if he thought he’d hurt her feelings if he said anything else. “Otherwise, how is Cullen?”

“He’s been good. Happier than I am that the Inquisition is disbanding, I think. But I’m willing to bet he’ll be even happier when I tell him my news,” she teased.

“Oh? And what news might that be? Anything juicy I can lord over you later?”

Halise chewed on the inside of her lip, debating whether to tell him or not. But she wanted help with ideas for ways to tell Cullen, and in order to brainstorm, Dorian would have to know. “Well…” She decided to draw it out for suspense.

“Well what, woman?!” he almost shouted.

“Well…I’m pregnant!” Halise couldn’t help the wide smile stuck to her face at saying it. Saying it to someone else made it all so real all of a sudden.

A very audible gasp came from the other end of the sending crystal, serving only to heighten Halise’s mirth and anticipation. “You’re—”

“You’re pregnant?!” a female voice yelled from behind her.

Halise shrieked and jumped, her body jerking so hard she fell off the edge of her bed with a loud _thud_. “Owww,” she groaned as she sat up, holding the locket open with her hand. She was more than a little angry that she couldn’t rub the shoulder she’d just landed on. No hand to do it with.

“Halise? Are you alright?” Dorian asked, genuine worry touching at his voice.

She already knew who the voice that startled her belonged to, and the woman ran around the bed to help Halise up. “I’m fine. Sera’s here.”

Just as Sera sat Halise back on the bed, she leapt in with her, grabbing her up into a too-hard embrace that made both of them grunt under the strain. “I can’t believe you’re gonna have a baby! A little you and a little Cully-Wully running around! Holy shit!!!”

The timbre of Dorian’s voice quickly betrayed his utter amusement. “I, for once, am with Sera! I can’t believe you’re pregnant! Congratulations!” The bits at the end sounded very genuine. “How far along are you?”

“Yeah! How long till I can pinch its cheeks?! Ooh! And teach it to make cookies! How long?!” Sera bounced around frantically on the bed, wiggling Halise’s torso to and fro.

Halise’s irritation quickly faded back into jubilation at her friends’ responses. “Adan says I’m about 12 weeks along,” she answered, simply beaming. “So…about six more months?”

Sera pouted and instantly began poking lightly at Halise’s breasts, drawing out a chuckle from Halise. “That’s too long!!! How am I supposed to wait that long? I may forget the good cookie recipe I nabbed by then!”

“Slow down, weirdo. I don’t think you’ll be able to teach her how to make cookies for another couple of years at least!” Halise said.

“Wait,” Dorian interjected, unable to see Sera’s open mouth undoubtedly preparing to whine a little more, “did you just say, ‘her?’”

Halise’s eyes widened. She hadn’t even realized she’d done it. “Uh…yes?” she replied sheepishly.

“And how’d you know that?” Sera said, curiosity edged with suspicion tinging her voice.

“Cole kind of…told me in the middle of the Exalted Council,” Halise winced, preparing for the inevitable.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Sera and Dorian both shouted, almost in unison.

“Well, I had to be sure!” Halise retorted plaintively.

“Stuff that! Creepy knows what he’s talking about!” Sera’s less than kind nickname for Cole. She’d never really warmed to him, her distaste for all things magical and pseudo-magical overtaking the fact that he’d been nothing but sweet to her, if a bit invasive.

“Now, now, Sera. Cole has been known to be a bit…cryptic from time to time,” Dorian admonished.

Halise decided to stay silent as to that point. Cole had been anything but cryptic. He’d put his hand right over the baby, for Mythal’s sake! But Dorian and Sera didn’t need to know the specifics of the conversation that she’d already chosen once not to disclose.

“In any case, now you both know, and I need help figuring out a good way to tell Cullen,” she said.

“Wait, what? He doesn’t know?” Sera asked, visibly taken aback. “You didn’t tell daddy he’s gonna be daddy?” Something like a sneer or a sinister smile crept over Sera’s lips.

“Sera, stop making the face I know you’re making,” Dorian warned. “We’re going to help our adorable friend find an equally adorable and nauseating way to tell her sickeningly good-looking husband that he’s going to be the father of an inevitably gorgeous little girl.”

“Thanks?” Halise wasn’t sure which parts of Dorian’s statement were intended to be insults, if any, but his tone made it so difficult to tell.

The three of them must have gone around and around for an hour. Halise had a couple of ideas, but Dorian and Sera, always a bit more well-equipped for secrets and surprises than she, had a plethora of their own. It wasn’t hard to shoot some of them down. There would be no bees or explosions of any kind, killing off a good half of Sera’s outlandish ideas. Dorian had a few good plans, but they hadn’t felt quite right. In the end they settled on something they’d all come up with together, each of them contributing little bits and pieces to the method by which Cullen would be told that he was to be a father.

After wrapping up their conversation, Halise bid her farewells to Dorian, promising more than once to get back in touch to tell him how it went. Then she and Sera went down to the garden to prepare a bit. The smell of food somehow wafting all the way across Skyhold from the kitchen made Halise a bit nauseous, and she thought in that moment that it had been nothing short of a miracle Cullen hadn’t figured out that she was pregnant on his own. But he’d missed his sister’s and Branson’s wife’s pregnancies because he was at the Circles, and Mythal knew there wouldn’t have been any obvious pregnancies there, so she suspected he simply hadn’t been close to enough pregnant women to realize on his own.

When she and Sera finished their work in the garden, which had been much more complicated than Halise had been prepared for given her lone hand and the temperamental nature of the crystal grace, Halise took the product of their efforts back up to her quarters. She still had a bit more to do before she fell asleep for the evening, and that thought made her shoulders shrink down with a petulant pout and whine. Being pregnant made her so fucking tired! Growing a little person was hard!

But when she did finally try to go to sleep, she was too excited. Cullen would be home by lunch—ech—and she could tell him about the baby. A sneaky thought caught her off guard, however, and all at once, she was overcome by doubt. What if he wasn’t happy about having a baby? Would he blame her for not exercising enough care in preventing it? Would he leave? She tried her best to steel herself against such thoughts, clenching her eyes shut and willing them away with memories of all the conversations they’d had recently about having children, and how Cullen’s eyes sparkled when even the mention of being a father crossed his lips. He would be happy. If anything, he would be happy because Halise was happy. That was, after all, one of the many reasons she married him. His happiness was paramount to her, as hers was to him. They meant the world to one another, and now, the little product of their love blossomed in her womb.

He would be happy. She was sure of it.

*****

A loud bark woke Halise with a jolt. With her eyes still closed, she brought her hand up to block her face, knowing what was coming next. The bed bounced vigorously with Raff’s heavy leap up and excited hopping about. The sound of his exhilarated snorts and pants preceded the sensation of their hot, puffing air against her palm, ears, and face. The dog’s tongue darted out like a face-seeking projectile, somehow managing to catch the side of Halise’s nose and the corner of her mouth. She couldn’t help the laughter that followed, nor the little _pthlbt_ noises sputtering out of her as she tried to get his tongue away from her mouth.

Cullen’s hearty chuckle hit hear ears next, the confirmation of his presence thrilling her enough to try and sit up against the onslaught of mabari kisses. When her efforts proved unsuccessful, she wailed out a little “Wah!” intended to signal her husband for help.

“Alright, Raff, that’s enough,” he laughed just commandingly enough to get the dog to stop and move over.

Halise wiped her face with the back of her hand and grinned up at him from her spot on the pillow. He sat on the edge of the bed, running his fingertips gently along her cheek before saying, “Besides, this is _my_ mouth to kiss.”

Halise’s breath hitched in her throat as he leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against hers, the feeling of him coupled with his domineering tone sending heat straight between her legs. She sighed into him happily, parting her lips without hesitation when his tongue flicked against them. Their kiss deepened, and she laced her fingers into the back of his hair, leaving her other arm at her side. She balked a bit when she felt his hand glide up the bicep of her partial arm, but did her best to ignore her trepidation in light of his apparent lack of concern as to her self-perceived deformity.

That same hand brushed down to her breast and gave a little squeeze. The pregnancy had apparently made them a bit tender, so she grimaced a grunted a bit, breaking their kiss by turning away from his insistent lips. A look of consternation passed over his face, furrowing his brow.

“Are you alright? Is it your arm? Did I hurt you?” he asked in rapid succession.

 _Yes, a little, and kind of,_ came to mind, but there were more pressing matters. “No, I’m alright,” Halise answered. “I thought you were supposed to get back around lunch time.”

Cullen’s lips quirked up at the corner. “It _is_ around lunch time.”

Halise blinked hard. “Well…shit. Alright. I guess that means it’s time to get up.” She began to sit up.

“Or perhaps not,” Cullen replied suggestively, leaning in to kiss her again.

She stopped him cold with a quick redirect of her face, meeting his mouth with her forehead instead of her lips. “Actually,” she murmured, “there was something I was hoping to talk to you about. If you’re not too hungry, that is.”

“No, that’s alright,” he said, a quizzical look creasing his brow once more. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

Halise sat all the way up, sliding past Cullen as she moved toward her desk, where a little pile of seeds and a freshly potted crystal grace seedling sat. She beckoned him over to her while Raff settled in at the foot of the bed, likely exhausted from their journey back from South Reach. Cullen looked sideways at her before he stepped over, obviously confused and worried. She hadn’t meant for that, but refused to spoil the surprise.

She picked up a pinch-full of the seeds. “Put out your hand,” she demanded gently. He complied, and she sprinkled them into his palm. He glanced from the seeds to her and back again several times, incertitude tugging at the skin under his eyes with a little squint.

Halise smiled a bit. “These are crystal grace seeds,” she said. “The plant is rather difficult to get to seed, but even more difficult to get to grow.”

She carefully plucked the seeds out of his hand, setting them on the desk before picking up the little potted seedling and putting it in his hands. “Still,” she continued wistfully, “with a lot of love and patience, you can get them to grow. And when they do, they are…spectacular. Wonderful and sweet smelling and beautiful. Undoubtedly worth all of the love you’ve poured into them, and deserving of every ounce you have to give to get them to keep flourishing. You see, vhenan, crystal grace takes love to plant, and even more to grow. This one,” she pointed at the seedling in his hand, glancing up to see his eyes enrapt, “should bloom in about six months with enough love, which should be just in time.”

Cullen shook his head just the slightest bit. “I don’t understand, Halise. Just in time for what?”

Halise chewed on the inside of her lip, scared out of her mind as she motioned for him to turn the pot around. On the side that had been facing away from him until that very moment, she’d painted in a delicate script, “Welcome to the world, Giggles,” with a small heart just below the words.

Her heart stopped and danced about in her chest and stopped again as Cullen’s eyes scanned over the words. It looked as though he read them several times, his expression ever shifting. He went from befuddled to almost angry looking to…shocked, maybe? When he finally looked up at her, his eyes were wide and his mouth hung agape. She couldn’t read his face at all. Was he surprised? Happy? Angry?

Halise felt her own brow furrowing at the length of time his response was taking. She chewed on the inside of her lip harder, almost piercing the delicate flesh between her teeth. Her breaths came heavily or not at all, and the sound of her heartbeat flooded her ears. She had to break the silence, to find out something. _What is he thinking?!_

“Um…Cullen?”  _Shit._

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMFG CLIFFHANGER!!! I'm a straight up jerk...I know...
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depictions of childbirth below...not gory or anything, just...there.
> 
> Also, there's a song in this chapter, and you can listen along [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hEk-k68jZc)

“Really?” Cullen murmured. Or at least he thought he murmured. He was utterly dumbstruck. Dumbstruck and thrilled. So thrilled, it seemed, that words were completely failing to form in his mouth. All he could do was gape at Halise—his great love, the kind that only comes once in a thousand years—the woman who was carrying his child. Their child.

“Welcome to the world, Giggles,” was all the little pot said, all it had to say. It was everything.

But Halise’s face contorted into worry all too quickly. She was gnawing on the inside of her lip before she whispered, “Um…Cullen?”

Cullen’s words failed him so utterly when he needed them the most. Euphoria surged through his body like fire carried on the wind, yet there Halise stood, nearly in tears from his lack of response. He had to do something!

Knowing how important the little crystal grace plant was, he very delicately reached past Halise’s hip to set it down on her desk. When he looked back up at her, her lower lip was trembling, her eyes glistening with the wealth of tears she was so desperately trying to hold back. With the arm still retracting from the desk, Cullen swept her into him. Desperate to convey his emotions—elation, gratitude, love, and a thousand others—he clutched her tightly, tears he hadn’t even felt coming suddenly mapping trails of joy and adoration down his cheeks. His breaths came heavily and shakily, leaving his chest in sobs that grew deeper with each exhale.

He was going to be a father.

Halise’s slim fingers slid up his back, and her nose brushed across his throat, hot, wet air leaving her body in much the same way it was Cullen’s. A soft, warm little tear touched his neck, having wound its way down from Halise’s eyes. At that, Cullen’s sobs became more vocal. He clung to his wife with every ounce of strength left in his body, pouring all he felt through his touch.

Then his words made their triumphant return. “Thank you,” he wept into her blueberry scented curls. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Cullen,” Halise sobbed into his neck. “You’re going to be a father.”

With those words, Cullen was overcome once more. He slid his cheek along Halise’s hair until his lips found her forehead. He held her face in his hands as gently as if she were the tiny crystal grace seedling, delicate and beautiful and in need of every infinitesimal particle of his love. Cullen moved his forehead to touch hers, their noses brushing against each other before he pressed a kiss to her lips.

His whole world existed in the space occupied by their bodies. The only woman he would or could ever need, him, and their baby. This was everything. The sum total of his life had brought him to this moment, and he would cherish it like no other. Like so many times before, unwilling to forget a single thing, he took careful stock of every detail. The plush softness of his wife’s lips against his. The little curve of them as she smiled into him. The feeling of her fingers gliding up his back between his shoulder blades. The heat of her exultant tears trickling down against the side of his thumb, catching only for the barest moment before continuing their little journey down to the heel of his hand and slipping silently to the ground. The sound of their comingling sobs, slowly shifting into laughter as it sunk in. The knowledge that swelling within his beloved was the result of the intimacy that bound their souls together.

Cullen pulled his lips from hers, gazing into her watery green eyes so full of tenderness. His hands released Halise’s face, only to find her waist. He sank slowly to his knees before her, the sensation markedly similar to what he felt when kneeling before all those monuments of the Holy Andraste from his childhood until that moment. His faith, his love, his trust, his devotion—all so familiar.

He slid his calloused fingers from her ankles to her bare, lissome calves. His digits continued their trek up to her thighs, under her gauzy nightshirt, and up to her hips. There, he paused for a moment, just holding her over her smallclothes before grasping at her nightshirt and pulling it up to expose her belly. It didn’t look so different than it had when he’d caught his first glimpse of it after she fell off the steps outside of Haven. The skin was pale and soft, still settled over well-concealed and well-formed muscle. A single, dark little mole still sat below and to the right of her belly button. It was the same, but so very different.

Closing his eyes, Cullen rested his forehead against Halise’s naval. The sounds of her breathing filled his ears, joining the sensation of her flesh moving under him with every breath. Her fingers skimmed across his cheek and ear, then tangled into his hair. Cullen held her there reverently, even when she fidgeted and huffed out a little laugh at the tickle caused by his breathing. He said dozens of tiny prayers for his tiny baby, sealing them with a kiss to Halise’s belly. She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair, soothing away the bits of his mind that had frayed enough to prevent him from speaking.

He placed his right hand softly against Halise’s belly, leaving it there as he stood once more. With his other hand, Cullen cradled his wife’s face in his palm. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips to his sensitive skin before opening them again. Her beaming smile was wide and bright and beautiful. She was glowing.

“I love you so, so much, Halise,” Cullen sighed, a massive, teary grin stuck on his face for what could turn out to be forever. “So very, very much. And I am so incredibly happy about this. I…” He paused, searching for the right words to say what he meant. “I can’t wait for this child to meet its mother.”

“I love you too, Cullen. So very much,” she replied. “And I can’t wait for this child to meet her father.”

Cullen’s eyes widened, as did Halise’s smile. “Her?” he breathed, warmth rushing into his chest and stilling his heart.

Halise simply nodded in response. He was having a daughter.

They were having a daughter.

*****

Halise’s screams tore through the stony walls of their home in South Reach. Cullen sat by her side, holding her hand as she wailed and spewed obscenities, both in Common and Elvhen. Her little lightning sparks popped and crackled against his skin periodically, though it was a small price to pay for being able to stay by her side in her agony.

Unlike the last time Cullen had heard his wife scream like this, he was hopeful. Not the kind of hope necessary when someone was ill, though to be sure, his hope was still tinged with fear. But this hope, he bore for his family.

Halise had already been in labor for nearly an entire day, according to Marissa, though she hadn’t known it for the first seven or eight blessed hours. Marissa was one of the healers working in Cullen and Halise’s Templar clinic, though she’d also practiced midwifery during her time in Highever. That made her a much easier hire, bringing none of the usual—almost cursory—protests from Adan, who’d been acting as the head healer since before they’d opened the clinic’s doors.

The time had come for Halise to push, and she gritted her teeth and screamed for ten seconds at a time as she did. Her breaths sawed in and out of her between contractions, tears pouring from her eyes and cries of “I can’t do it anymore,” “I’m so tired,” and “Please get her out,” spilling from her lips. Cullen held onto her, barely noticing the pain of her nails digging into the back of his hand with every excruciating push. He encouraged her, responding to each of her wailing utterances with supportive remarks to coax her into pushing in spite of the pain.

Halise’s torso was propped up by a mile-high stack of pillows, keeping her almost upright. Her feet were spread wide on the birthing bed, knees pulled up almost to her chest. Her hair was matted down with the sweat of her labor, and her face was flushed bright red. Her whole body trembled for ten seconds, relaxed for five, and trembled again for ten.

Cullen’s emotions rushed through his body, almost nauseating in the hot and cold sensations they forced into his gut. He hated to see Halise in such pain, and she’d already been pushing like that for nearly an hour when Marissa’s tune finally changed.

“I see the head!”

Cullen’s heart jumped into his throat. He wouldn’t look. Halise had asked him not to. But he wanted so badly to see his daughter’s face. Instead he watched his wife’s eyes go wide with what must have been a combination of terror, relief, and joy. Spurred on, she pushed with renewed vigor as Cullen watched on, astonished at her incredible strength.

“The shoulders are out!!! One more big push should do it!”

Cullen held fast to Halise’s hand as she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. The groan slipping through morphed into a loud scream, and her body shook with the sheer force of her efforts. Cullen’s eyes darted from Halise’s face to Marissa’s for what felt like an eternity. When Halise’s body went nearly slack, he was completely startled.

“She’s out!” Marissa shouted, her tone somehow congratulatory as she lifted the baby away from Halise.

She was beautiful. Her tiny body was covered in viscera, and her eyes barely opened as she let out her first cry—a magnificent and powerful sound that shook Cullen to the depths of his soul. Her impossibly small hands were balled into little fists.

Marissa grabbed something resembling a clothespin off of the tool table next to the bed, clamping it onto the umbilical cord about an inch from the baby’s tummy. She then snatched up a strange looking pair of scissors and almost slammed them sideways into Cullen’s free hand.

“Cut right here,” Marissa said, pointing at a spot on the cord just past the clamp.

Cullen did as instructed, cutting the cord with a single snip. An unfamiliar swell of pride rolled through him as he freed his daughter from his wife’s womb. Marissa worked quickly to towel off the baby before wrapping her in a little mossy green blanket Halise had made about a month before. She’d embroidered the same little insignia onto the blanket as the one sitting against Cullen’s heart—the intertwined sword and Dalish bow he’d begun to think of as their family crest.

Halise stretched her arm out, reaching for the baby while she beamed and sobbed. Likewise, tears fell from Cullen’s eyes as Marissa handed their swaddled child to her mother. Halise cradled the wee thing in the crook of her arm, using her other to stabilize the feet. She kissed the baby’s forehead and wept. His wife, holding their child, was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in his entire life. She looked up at Cullen with such hopeful adoration in her eyes.

“She’s here,” she squeaked. “We made her, and she’s here!”

“She’s beautiful,” Cullen cooed. “Just like her mother.”

At that, Halise sobbed a little harder. Cullen leaned in, touching his forehead to Halise’s before brushing a kiss across her lips. Leaving their heads pressed together, they both stared down at their amazing creation, affectionate murmurs passing between them as they stared. She was a wriggling little ball of skin with a head of fine, light hair and green eyes, just like her mother and grandfather. Little snorting breaths emanated from her as she gazed up at her parents. Cullen curled his index finger and caressed his daughter’s hair and face. It was as if she was made of velvet, incredibly soft and warm. He pressed a feather light kiss to her forehead and whispered, “I love you, baby girl.”

“What’s her name?” Marissa’s voice temporarily broke the spell the little girl had bewitched them with.

Cullen looked to Halise, who gave him a soft smile. “Aurora Halise Rutherford,” she replied.

“Like the sparkling rainbow lights in the sky the Breach left behind?” the healer asked as she cleaned up some of her tools.

“Yes,” Halise replied, turning her gaze back down to the baby. “My little light in the sky,” she whispered.

“Perfect,” Cullen said, causing Halise’s eyes to lift to his. He kissed his wife, then their baby. “Aurora,” he breathed into her hair, “you are perfect.”

*****

Cullen sat in a chair next to Halise’s bed as she slept, cradling Aurora’s tiny swaddled body. He stared down at her, unable to tear his eyes from her face, lest he miss a single twitch or yawn. Some of their friends would undoubtedly start to arrive within the next few days, Halise having sent word to almost everyone when she realized she was going into labor, insisting that the family had to meet its newest member. Aurora would be passed around and cooed at and loved by everyone, so Cullen took his peaceful time with her then, murmuring little promises to his daughter into the late hours of the night.

He finally had a chance to keep something he loved safe. He could protect his little girl, shield her from harm and pain and evil. She wouldn’t suffer like he or Halise had. He would make damn certain of that much. As if compelled by his experiences, Cullen began to sing softly to Aurora, hoping to somehow keep her from the woes of the world with his words.

 

 _Don't let your mind get weary and confused_  
_Your will be still, don't try_  
_Don't let your heart get heavy child_  
_Inside you there's a strength that lies_  
  
_Don't let your soul get lonely child_  
_It's only time, it will go by_  
_Don't look for love in faces, places_  
_It's in you, that's where you'll find kindness_  
  
_Be here now, here now_  
_Be here now, here now_  
  
_Don't lose your faith in me_  
_And I will try not to lose faith in you_  
_Don't put your trust in walls_  
_Cause walls will only crush you when they fall_  
  
_Be here now, here now_  
_Be here now, here now_

 

Aurora gazed up at Cullen as he sang, her birth-swollen green eyes slowly drifting shut. He smiled down at her, brushing his thumb over her downy soft hair. Sheets ruffled behind him, and he kept still as best he could while turning to see Halise laying on her side with her bleary eyes open. She gave him a tired smile, beckoning him to her silently with her fingers.

Moving slowly and deliberately so as not to wake Aurora, Cullen stood and took the two steps over to his wife. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he whispered.

Halise shook her head lightly, patting the side of the bed in front of her. “You didn’t,” she replied quietly as Cullen slowly sat next to her, adjusting himself so Halise could see Aurora. “She’s got your nose,” she mused with a smile.

“She hasn’t got anyone’s nose yet, just a little button,” Cullen said, examining Aurora’s features.

“Yes she does. She’s got that Rutherford snoot. You all do. Well, except Branson. But I bet even Rosalie and Dolan’s children will have it.” They had married only a few months before, Dolan having joined the South Reach guard after the Inquisition ended. Halise was a bride’s matron in the ceremony, and despite her constant claims that she was too fat, Cullen thought she looked beautiful in the dress Rosalie picked.

“Well, I think we all know whose eyes she got,” Cullen grinned at Halise, who returned his smile with an even brighter one.

“Not so fast, there. You didn’t notice the little ring? It’s all fall-colored, like yours.”

Cullen squinted down at Aurora, wishing he could see the color of her eyes. He just hummed in response.

“I love her so much. It’s amazing—how fast I loved her,” Halise cooed, running a finger over their daughter’s chubby cheek.

The thought resonated deeply with Cullen. “There was a time when I didn’t think I could love anyone or anything. I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love the two of you—never thought love could spread so wide without diminishing.”

His wife turned her attentions to him then, her fingers gliding gently up his jaw before settling against his cheek. Cullen rested his head in Halise’s palm. “Our love can,” she said simply.

“It can,” he replied, leaning down carefully to kiss her without waking the baby. Their lips met tenderly, lingering together for a moment before parting. The two of them kept their foreheads together, noses brushing across one another as they stared into each other’s eyes. Aurora breathed in quick little snorts between them, and Cullen’s heart felt full. Full of love, full of happiness, full of life.

 _Our love can do anything,_ he thought. And it could. He knew it could.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics used in this chapter were taken from Ray LaMontagne's song "Be Here Now," which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hEk-k68jZc) if you'd like. I do love that man's silky but raspy voice, so give it/him a try if you haven't already!
> 
> Alright fair reader. One chapter left. <3
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	51. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go...
> 
> Also, NSFW again.

“My love,” a whisper of Cullen’s raspy morning voice, along with the heat of his breath, filled Halise’s ear.

“Mmm?” She’d only just stirred from sleep, eyes still closed and body still covered by their blankets. Well, their blankets and Cullen’s arm. He lay pressed up against her back with an arm draped over her waist, and his hand wandered over the planes of her stomach under her nightshirt as he waited for her to rouse enough to say whatever he needed to say.

Or, apparently, do whatever he needed to do. His morning erection pressed insistently against her backside, his hand sliding up to cup one of her breasts. Halise felt a slow smile creep across her lips, humming a quiet answer to his unspoken question. She made no show or ceremony of removing her smallclothes under the sheets, slipping them off the edge of the bed with very little movement. Cullen’s had been off, she suspected from the firmness of him, for quite some time.

He squeezed her as close as he could to him, leaving no air between their bodies. The same perfect fit to them she’d noticed all those years ago held fast, every inch of them touching softly. Cullen kneaded at her breast with one hand, and at her backside with the other. His rough fingers passed from one pebbled nipple to the other, rolling and caressing with practiced care and precision. His teeth and tongue worked at the flesh on her neck languidly, but no less passionately. Halise reached up and back to thread her fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp appreciatively as he worked to bring her to his level of arousal.

The hand that had been at her ass slid under her waist, tense and creeping down her stomach toward her sex. When Cullen’s fingers reached her core, he gently pressed them against her clit, sending a wave of pleasure up Halise’s body. Her back arched at the lazy circles he made, pressing her backside against his cock more firmly. His fingers travelled just a bit further down, testing her readiness. Apparently satisfied with what he felt there, Cullen lowered his body just enough to position himself between her legs, slipping into her gently.

Despite the growing pleasure building between them, Cullen and Halise breathed quietly, save for the occasional sharp little gasp or rumbling sigh. He pushed into her slowly over and over, her hips rocking in time with his. His hands and mouth worked her both tenderly and diligently, years of experience guiding every moment. Halise turned her head back to face him, mouth already open to receive him as he slid his tongue against hers in unhurried undulations. Her grip on his hair tightened along with the rest of her muscles when she felt her orgasm nearing, tingling heat rushing from her every extremity directly to her core. A little _crack_ sounded from her hand against Cullen’s scalp and he growled into her mouth, speeding the pace of his dexterous fingers just enough to nudge her into ecstasy. Her whole body trembled and spasmed with the waves of hot pleasure rolling through her. Cullen’s previously slow ministrations quickened, and she soon felt him join her in his own undoing. A guttural, hedonistic sound rumbled deep within his chest, passing between their lips and into Halise’s mouth as he came—a sound and sensation she’d always relished, though it was quieter then than it used to be.  

Their lips parted with small smiles, their breathing slowing gradually before he removed himself from her. They both reached for their smallclothes, drawing them back up quietly before they dared say a word. Safely ensconced in her underwear once more, Halise rolled over to face her husband, planting a little kiss on his forehead and watching the satisfied smirk curl his lips. He stretched his arms out over and under her, pulling her close to him again with a contented sigh.

“I love you, Cullen,” she said, brushing over his still well-formed chest with her fingertips.

“I love you, Halise,” he replied, drawing little circles on her temples.

Halise counted down silently to herself. _Five, four, three, two_ —

The door to their room flew open with a cacophony of giggles and barks. Two small pairs of bare feet and one set of paws clamored across the wooden floor before the bed shook with the force of their daughters’ flying entry. Two heads covered in bed-matted strawberry blonde curls popped into view, the littlest one flinging herself horizontally across Cullen and Halise’s waists and knocking the air out of both of them. Aurora jumped around them all in little semi-circles. Fortunately, Cullen had trained Raff to stay off the bed when their daughters attacked.

Halise grinned slyly at Cullen. “I’ve got the little one. You get the big one,” she murmured.

Cullen nodded briskly, and Halise silently mouthed “One, two, three.” On three, they both threw the covers off of their bodies with a loud battle cry. Their daughters squealed, trying unsuccessfully to scatter away before they were caught. Halise wrapped her arm around Hope, their four-year-old, flinging the little girl onto her back over the blankets. Aurora made for the door, but Cullen caught her by the waist, lifting her giggling little six-year-old body with ease and setting her right next to her sister.

Cullen and Halise hovered like predators over their daughters, whose wriggling had ceased with the foreboding knowledge of what was about to happen. Wife and husband shot a quick smirking glance at each other before they both roared out loudly and descended on their children. Wiggling, tickling fingers flew in every direction, shrieking laughter pealing out of the girls as they suffered their punishment for interrupting their parents.

“Have you had enough?” Halise growled playfully, making a claw of her hand, grabbing Hope’s stomach, and shaking her about. She repeated the action when she was met only with laughter.

“No more jumping on the bed!” Cullen howled before blowing a raspberry on Aurora’s tummy, wringing a chuckle from Halise’s chest in the process.

Eventually, the tickle torture and din of raucous laughter slowed, and the little girls huddled between Cullen and Halise a bit more calmly. “I’m gonna play with baby Ren when we go to Aunt Mia’s house later,” Hope chirped happily, green eyes gazing down at the tiny toes she was fiddling with.

“As long as you’re gentle,” Cullen answered softly as he picked at a little knot in Aurora’s hair, brows furrowing at its apparent stubbornness. The sight of her shirtless husband, still built like a warrior, plucking dutifully at their small daughter’s hair with such fierce concentration brought a grin to Halise’s face. “We don’t want to tell Auntie Rosalie and Uncle Dolan you broke their favorite son,” he continued.

“I don’t break things. I’ll be nice,” Hope said almost reassuringly.

“She does too break things,” Aurora chimed in with a faint scowl. “She broke that sword you gave her.” The two little ones exchanged looks with their tongues stuck out.

“Hey, now,” Halise chided. “That wasn’t her fault. She was using it like we taught her and it was poorly made. Besides,” she glanced coyly at Aurora, whose expression turned to one of knowing shame, “I seem to recall _somebody_ breaking her first bow out of anger. Hmm. Maybe Daddy remembers who that was.”

Cullen looked up at her, trying desperately not to smile from the twitch in his lips, and replied, “I _believe_ that was our very own little Aurora. Snapped the thing right in half over her knee after missing the target.”

Aurora spun to face him with her mouth hanging open barbarically, nearly tugging her long hair from his fingers. Cullen just looked down at her, raised his eyebrows, and widened his eyes in one quick motion as if to tell her, “You know what you did.” Their oldest whirled back around, crossing her arms and frowning with a little huff.

Halise took a moment to marvel at her daughters. Both had matching eyes in different shapes, and the same strawberry blonde curls that seemed almost a precise combination of her and Cullen’s locks. As she’d predicted, the Rutherford nose clung handsomely to their faces, though their lips had taken on different structures. Aurora also had a lighter complexion than Hope, though Hope seemed to have gotten all of Halise’s freckles. They were both growing into their personalities, but Halise and Cullen spent a lot of time teaching them right from wrong—attempting to instill within them a strong sense of justice while still counseling patience and compassion.

It was getting a bit too late to be lounging in bed. They had to be at Mia and Marcus’s in a couple of hours, and it would probably take at least half that time to get the knots out of the girls’ hair. “Hope, my sweet, would you please get Mamae’s arm from the dresser?” she asked.

Hope nodded with her whole torso, hopping gingerly off the bed and teetering over to the dresser. She lifted up the sculpted wooden forearm before asking, “Which hand do you want today, Mamae?”

“Hmm. Should I wear the crossbow to Aunt Mia’s house?” she asked, tapping her chin with her finger pensively.

Hope and Aurora both tittered. “Silly Mamae! Crossbow’s not for Auntie’s house!”

“It’s not?!” Halise cried, slumping her shoulders in feigned disappointment. “So which hand should I bring?”

Hope turned back to the array of carved and mechanical pieces meant to fit on the end of the forearm. Among them were the crossbow, a hook, a locking blade that retracted into a small slit in the forearm, and a multi-jointed contraption shaped like a hand. There were even some in their barn that hooked into farm tools. Bianca had taken Halise’s request as more of a challenge, crafting every kind of utility she could dream up. The whole exercise had actually managed to get some of Bianca’s inventions spreading like wildfire around Thedas, advancing workmanship and actually creating a market for new contraptions.

Halise pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at Hope’s thoughtful consideration. Cullen grinned wildly at the entire display, eyes scarcely leaving the knots he was working to clear from Aurora’s hair. Finally, her youngest grabbed up the jointed hand, holding it up with a beaming smile and shouting, “This one!”

Halise nodded reluctantly and sighed. “I suppose this one will have to do. But if Hope says it’s the right one, it must be!”

“That it must,” Cullen agreed.

Halise was just about on the nose when she estimated how much time their little family would need to get over to Mia and Marcus’s in time. It took an age to get the girls put together in even some semblance of orderliness, and the ride over was about twenty minutes. Hope sat in front of Cullen on his horse, Aurora in front of Halise on Moosh, and Raff followed happily alongside them.

When they arrived, as was expected, the whole lot of the Rutherford clan’s children were outside the house playing. Alden had just turned seventeen, and was swinging Rosalie and Dolan’s five-year-old daughter, Maisie, around in circles by her arms. Owen and Dawn were playing chess under the massive oak tree that grew along the side of the house. The shade of the hearty green leaves dappled the grass with sunlight, catching the varied shades of blonde and brown hair amongst the children. All of them, even Alden and Maisie, had that Rutherford nose. It amazed Halise that Branson had somehow not gotten it.

Before they could stop, Aurora all but leapt off of Moosh’s back to fly into Alden’s arms just as he set Maisie down, sending a little jolt of fear through Halise’s body. Hope at least had the courtesy to wait until they stopped before making a break for it, careening into Dawn’s side with a little squeal. Raff sped off after the children, heading straight for Owen. Once Halise and Cullen had tied their mounts off at the post with the half-dozen other horses and ponies, they greeted their nieces and nephews. Cullen and Alden grasped each other’s forearms before Cullen pulled the boy into a hug, then started discussing Alden’s plans to join the guard. Halise made her way over to the chess set, giving Maisie a little squeeze on the way.

Dawn hopped up to embrace Halise and provide a gentle reminder that her thirteenth name day was only a few weeks away, dropping a not-so-subtle hint that she’d outgrown the last bow they had given her. The greeting from Owen was much more causal, mostly because he’d started apprenticing with Adan at the Templar clinic, so they saw each other there almost every day. The boy was brilliant, and was shaping up to be an incredibly skilled, talented healer if he stayed the course.

A few moments later, with Hope in tow, Halise and Cullen went inside the house to greet the adults. Hope grabbed at Rosalie’s skirts, nearly demanding to hold three-month-old Ren. Rosalie acquiesced only after forcing Hope to sit in a large, sturdy chair, one of the only ways to get the wriggling little ball of energy to hold still those days. Halise and Cullen chatted with the adults, including Branson’s new wife, Marissa. They’d become close while Branson was helping out in the clinic and, well, one thing led to another, as they so often do.

Time wore on easily in the company of family. Food was cooked and eaten, stories were shared, and quips and barbs were traded around the table. Mia agreed to watch Aurora and Hope during the daytime about a week from then while Halise tended to some business in Denerim with Sera for a few days. It wasn’t long before night fell and the second moon peaked over the horizon, signaling the time for Halise’s little family to depart.

She and Cullen practically had to tie their daughters to the saddles, they were so exhausted, though Aurora would ramble sleepily every so often about how Dawn was going to teach her new bow tricks or how high Alden lifted her that day. They carried the girls up to bed, though they woke up just in time to demand that Mamae and Daddy sing them a lullaby together. Raff snored on the floor between the girls’ beds, protective over them as he was since they’d been born.

Halise and Cullen spoke to Dorian on the sending crystal for a short time before heading to bed themselves. It seemed that the Lucari were taking over the entire political structure of Tevinter, and as party leader, Dorian’s duties were only expanding. Bull chimed in after a time. He’d found it safe enough to move into Tevinter to be with Dorian about a year before, and with plenty of work providing protection to go around, was kept well employed. Together they all planned for the visit Halise and Cullen would make with the girls to Tevinter in the coming months, and Cullen and Dorian played a few moves of their long distance chess game before they finally said their goodnights.

Halise removed her wooden arm, setting it and the hand attached to it back in their orderly positions on the dresser. Cullen insisted on undressing her, taking great care and reverence in the act, as he had for almost ten years. She curled up against him, nuzzling her nose into his neck and inhaling the scent of him. All leather and oak and that little something that was so distinctly him.

A thought crossed Halise’s mind in those moments, as she lay enveloped in the embrace of the man who might once have thought to kill her. “Could you ever have imagined,” she murmured into the light stubble on his neck, “that day we met at the temple, that we would end up here?”

Cullen’s body shook with his light laughter. “I couldn’t even imagine either of us living through the next few days.”

Halise tightened her fingers around his waist before sliding her hand up to his jaw. She moved to look up into his eyes—those searing, loving, autumnal eyes capable of seeing everything inside her—feeling his fingers grazing her cheek. “And now?” she asked softly.

“Now? Now, I couldn’t imagine life having turned out any other way,” Cullen replied sincerely. “Halise, I’ve loved you since that day you smiled at me in the Chantry. That has never once faltered, never stopped, never waned or dwindled. I love you as much, if not more than I did that day. You and our daughters are my whole world, and I wouldn’t change a single thing that’s led up to this moment. My beautiful, brilliant, strong, amazing wife still holds me tightly to her, and our daughters, who grow more and more like her every day, sleep safe and sound only a room away.”

“Wow,” Halise said with a smirk. “I should meet this woman. She sounds incredible.”

He smiled down at her. “You are,” he said simply.

Halise sighed and shook her head. “I love you so much, Cullen. With every piece of me I love you.”

“And no one could be more grateful for that than I am,” Cullen murmured, pressing little kisses to her forehead, chin, and the corners of her mouth as he continued, “I love you, have loved you, will keep loving you with my entire being forever.”

She smiled as their lips brushed together. “Showoff,” she murmured.

Cullen just chuckled as he kissed her—long and deep and full of love—the way she knew he thought she ought to be kissed. He was right. Everything had led them to that moment, and she wouldn’t change a single thing. Not even the things she’d thought were incredibly stupid at the time.

As her husband kissed her, touching her in all the ways he knew she liked to be touched, Halise, too, was grateful. Cullen saved her. He’d done it over and over again, as much as he thought he hadn’t, and he still did it every day. He slid between her legs, joining with her for the second time that day, and she sighed into him.

“I love you,” she whispered, studying the way his expression shifted when she said it.

“I love you, too,” Cullen replied, not just with his words, but with his whole body.

 _I love you,_ Halise thought again. _I love you, have loved you, will keep loving you with my entire being forever._ And she would.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, fair reader, that, as they say, is that. We've come to the end of our tale. "And they lived happily ever after."
> 
> I wanted to take a moment to express my sincere gratitude. Every person who has read this story, shared it, bookmarked it, subscribed, left likes, kudos, comments--everyone--has made this an unforgettable experience. This was my first fic, and my first stab at writing creatively in something like a decade. The response has been heartening, and spurred me to decide to keep writing, as well as to dip my toes back into drawing (which I also haven't done since I was a fashion major in undergrad (that's not what my degree is in BTW, so it's also been about 10 years since I've done that)). In any case, thank you for taking this journey with me, and I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. Being afforded the opportunity to tell this story with such kind readership was deeply encouraging. So thank you, fair reader. 
> 
> I hope you'll consider joining me in my next story ["Trial by Fire"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7992643), a modern AU set in both law school and the Denerim District Attorney's office. I should start posting more to that some time in the next week or so. Hope to see you there!
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


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